
C-lass 
Bodk. 



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MICROCOSMOGRAPHV 



|nf(C of the \\iOxU\ Jiocovcvcrt. 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY; 



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xm of the ^voxU mimvmti 



ESSAYS AND CHARACTERS. 



JOHX EARLE, D.D. 

or CHRIST-CHURCH AXD MERTON COLLEGES, OXFORD. AND 
BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED, NOTES AND AN APPENDIX, 
BY PHILIP BLISS, 

FELLOW OF ST. JOHNS COLLEGE. OXFORD. 



FIRST AMERICAN EDITION 

EDITED 

BY L. L. WILLIAMS. 



.^j:^¥. 




ALBANY: 
JOEL MUNSELL. 

MDCCCLXVII. 



TK '^^'^ 



Oift 

7 S 'OS 



PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 



This little book, called Microcosmography, was 
r-mirably edited in 1811 by Philip Bliss ; and his 
•; :or has left scarcely any thing to be supplied. 
!' asides the notes, that edition contained several 
' ort pieces by Bishop Earle, and an interesting list 
of " Books of Characters," with some specimens 
from the rarest. 

The present edition is little more than a reprint 
from that. Some corrections of errors noted by Mr. 
Bliss in an appendix have been made, and a few 
notes have been added, which are marked with an 
initial. 



A D VEB T I SEME NT 

To THE Edition of 1811. 



The present edition of Bishop Earle's Characters was 
undertaken from an idea that they were well worthy of 
republication, and that the present period, when the 
productions of our early English writers are sought after 
with an avidity hitherto unexampled, would be the most 
favourable for their appearance. 

The text has been taken, from the edition of 1733, 
collated with the first impression in 1628. The varia- 
tions from the latter are thus distinguished : — those words 
or passages which have been added since the first 
edition are contained between brackets, [and printed in 
the common type] ; those which have received some 
alteration, are printed in italic, and the passages, as they 
stand in the first edition, are always given in a note. 

For the Notes, Appendix, and Index, the editor is 
entirely answerable, and although he is fully aware that 
many superfluities will be censured, many omissions 
discovered, and many errors pointed out, he hopes that 
the merits of the original author will, in a great measure, 
compensate for the false judgment or neglect of his reviver. 

January 30, 1811. 



THE PREFACE 

To THE Edition of 1732* 



This little book had six editions between 1628 and 1638 
without any author's name to recommend it: I have 
heard of an eighth in 1664. From that of 1733 this pre- 
sent edition is reprinted, without altering any thing but 
the plain errors of the press, and the old pointing and 
spelling in some places. 

The language is generally eas)% and proves our English 
tongue not to be so very changeable as is commonly 
supposed ; nay, sometimes the phrase seems a little ob- 
scure, more by the mistakes of the printer than the 
distance of tim.e. Here and there we meet with a broad 
expression, and some characters are far below others ; nor 
is it to be expected that so great a variety of portraits 
should all be drawn with equal excellence, though there 
are scarce any without some masterly touches. The 
change of fashions unavoidably casts a shade upon a few 
places, yet even those contain an exact picture of the age 
wherein they were written, as the rest does of mankind 
in general : for reflections founded upon nature will be just 
in the main, as long as men are men, though the par- 
ticular instances of vice and folly may be diversified. 



* London : Pi^inted by E. Say, Anno Dmnini m.dcc.xxxii. 



Vm MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Paul's Walk is now no more, but then good company 
adjourn to coffee-houses, and, at the reasonable fine of 
two or three pence, throw away as much of their precious 
time as they find troublesome. 

Perhaps these valuable essays may be as acceptable to 
the public now as they were at first ; both for the enter- 
tainment of those who are already experienced in the 
ways of mankind, and for the information of others who 
would know the world the best way, that is — without 
trying it.* 



* A short account of Earle, taken from the Athence Oxoiiienses is 
here omitted. 



AD VERTISE3IENT 

To THE Edition of 1786.* 



As this entertaining little book is become rather scarce, 
and is replete with so much good sense and genuine 
humour, which, though in part adapted to the times 
when it first appeared, seems, on the whole, by no means 
inapplicable to any asra of mankind, the editor con- 
ceives that there needs little apology for the republication. 
A farther inducement is, his having, from very good 
authority, lately discovered! that these Characters 
(hitherto known only under the title of Blounfs)X were 
actually drawn b}^ the able pencil of John Earle, who 
was formerly bishop of Sarum, having been translated 



'■Microcosmography ; or, a Piece of the World characterized ; in 
and Characters, London, printed A. D. 1650. Salisbui^j, 
Reprinted and sold by E. Easton, 1786. Sold also by 6. and T. 
IVUkie, St. Paul's Church-yard, London.'" 

t I regret extremely that I am miable to put the reader in posses- 
sion of this very acute discoverer's name. 

:j: This mistake originated with Langbaine. who in his account of 
Lilly, calls Blount " a gentleman who has made himself known to 
the world by the several pieces of his own writing, (as Hone Sub- 
secivce, his 3Iicrocosmography, (fcc") Dramatic Poets, 8vo. 1691, 
p. 327. 

B 



X MICROCOSMOGKAPHY. 

to that see from Worcester, A. D. 1663, and died at 
Oxford, 1665. 

Isaac Walton, in his Life of Hooker, dehneates the cha- 
racter of the said venerable prelate. 

It appears from Antonj^ Wood's Athen. Oxon. under 
the Life of Bishop Earle, that this book was first of all 
published at London in 1628, under the name of '' Edward 
Blount'' 



EDITIONS OF MICRO COSMOGBAPHY. 



The first edition (of which the Bodleian possesses a 
copy, 8vo. P. 154. Theol.) was printed with the follow- 
ing title : " Micro-cosmograpliie : or, a Peece of the World 
discowfed; Jn Essay es and Characters. Newly comi^osed 
for the Northerne parts of this Kingdome. At London. 
Printed hy W. 8. for Ed. Blount, 1628. " This contains 
only fifty-four characters * which in the present edition 
are placed first. I am unable to speak of any subsequent 
copy, till one in the following year, (1629), printed for 
Robert Allot,! and called in the title " The fifth edition 
much enlarged. This, as Mr. Henry Ellis kindly informs 
me. from a copy in the British Museum, possesses seventy- 
six characters. The sixth was printed for Allot, in 1633, 
{Bodl. Mar. 441,) and has seventy-eight, the additional 
ones being " a herald," and a " suspicious, or jealous man." 
T\iQ seventh appeared in 1638, for Andrew Crooke, agreeing 
precisely with the sixth : and in 1650 the eighth. A copy 
of the latter is in the curious library of Mr. Hill, and, as 



* Having never seen or been able to hear of any copy of the second, 
third, or fourth editions, I am unable to point out when the additional 
characters first appeared. 

t Kobert Allot, better known as the editor of England'' s Parnassus, 
appears to have succeeded Blount in several of his copy-rights, 
among others, in that of Shakspeare, as the second edition (1632) 
was printed for him. 



Xll MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Mr. Park acquaints me, is without any specific edition 
numbered in the title. I omit tliat noticed by the editor 
of 1782, as printed in 1604, for if such a yolumc did exist, 
which I mucli doubt, it was nothing more than a copy 
of the eighth with a new title-page. In 1733 appeared 
the ninth, which was a reprint of the sixth, executed with 
care and judgment. I liave endeavoured in vain to 
discover to whom we are indebted for this republication 
of bishop Earle's curious volume, but it is probable that 
the person who undertook it, found so little encourage- 
ment in his attempt to revive a taste for the productions 
of our early writers, that he sufi'ered his name to remain 
unknown. Certain it is that the impression, probably 
not a large one, did not sell speedily, as I have seen a 
copy, bearing date 1740, under the name of" The World 
display'' d: or several Essays; consisting of the various 
Characters and Passions of its jmncipal Inhabitants,^^ &c. 
London, printed for C. Ward, and R. Chandler. The 
edition printed at Salisbur}^, in 1780, (which has only 
seventy-four characters,) with that now offered to the 
public, close the list. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

Preface to the Ameri- 
can Edition, iii 

Advertisement to the 

edition of 1811, .... v 
Preface to tlie edition 

of 1732, vii 

Advertisement to the 

edition of 1780, ix 

Editions of Microcmmo- 

graphy, xi 

Blount's Preface to the 

Reader, xv 

A child, 1 

A young raw preacher, 4 

A grave divine, 8 

A nicer dull physician, 10 

An alderman, 14 

A discontented man, . 16 

An antiquary, 18 

A younger brother, . . 20 

A nieer "formal man, . 22 

A church papist, 24 

A self-conceited man, 26 
A too idly reserved 

man, 28 

A tavern, 30 

A shark, 38 

A carrier, 35 

A young man, 37 

An old college butler, 39 
An upstart country 

knight, 42 



PAGE. 

An idle gallant, 44 

A constiSble, 46 

A downright scholar, . 47 

A plain country fellow, 49 

A player, . . . , 52 

A detractor, 54 

A young gentleman of 

the university, 56 

A weak man, 58 

A tobacco-seller, 60 

A pot-poet, 61 

I A plausable man, .... 63 

I A bowl-alley, 65 

The world's wise man, 66 

A surgeon, 68 

A contemplative man, 70 

A she precise hypocrite, 71 

A sceptick in religion, 75 

An attorney, 79 

A partial man, 81 

A trumpeter, 82 

A vulgar spirited man, 83 

A plodding student, . . 86 

Paul's walk, 87 

A cook, 90 

A bold forward man, . . 92 

A baker, 94 

A pretender to learning, 95 

A herald, 97 

The common singing- 
men in cathedral 

churches, 99 



XIV 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



PAGE. 

A shop-keeper, 100 

A blunt man, 102 

A handsome hostess, . 104 
A critic, 105 



A Serjeant or catch- 
pole, 106 

An university dun, . . . 107 
A staj^ed man, 108 



[All from this character were added after the first edition.] 



A modest man, Ill 

A meer empty wit, . . . 113 

A drunkard, 115 

A prison, 117 

A serving-man, 119 

An insolent man, 121 

Acquaintance, 122 

A meer complimental 

man, 125 

A poor fiddler, 126 

A meddling-man, 128 

A good old man, 129 

A flatterer, 131 



A high spirited man, . 133 

A meer gull citizen, . . 135 

A lascivious man, 139 

A rash man, 141 

An affected man, 143 

A profane man, 145 

A coward, 146 

A sordid rich man, . . . 148 

A meer great man, . . . 150 

A poor man, 151 

An ordinary honest man,153 
A suspicious, or jealous 

man, 155 



APPENDIX. 



157 
163 



167 



Some account of bishop 
Earle,* 

Characters of Bishop 
Earle, 

List of Dr. Earle's 
works, 

Lines on Sir John Bur- 
roughs, 169 

Lines on the Death of 
the earl of Pembroke, 170 

Lines on Mr. Beau- 
mont 172 

Dedication to the Latin 
translation of the 
Ejxwv BatfjXxr), • • • • 175 



Inscription on Dr. Iley- 
lin's monument, 180 

Correspondence be- 
tween Dr. Earle and 
Mr. Bagster, 182 

Inscription in Stregle- 
thorp cliurch, 184 

Chronological List of 
Books of Characters, 
from 1567 to 1700, . . 186 

Corrections^!^ addi- 
tions, ...^. 188 

A note on bishop 
Earle's arms, from 
Guillim's Heraldry, . 190 



* It will be remarked, that Dr. Earle's name is frequently spelled 
Earle and Earlex in the following pages. Wherever the editor has 
had occasion to usi' the name himself, he has invariably called it 
Earle, conceivinir that to be the proper orthography. Wherever it 
is found Earles. he has attended strictly to the original, from which 
the article or information has been derived. 



TO THE READER. 



I have (for once) adventured to play the midwife's 
part, helping to bring forth these infants into the world, 
which the father would have smothered ; who having 
left them lapt up in loose sheets, as soon as his fancy 
was delivered of them, written especially for his private 
recreation, to pass away the time in the country, and by 
the forcible request of friends drawn from him : yet, 
passing severally from hand to hand, in written copies, 
grew at length to be a pretty number in a little volume : 
and among so many sundry dispersed transcripts, some 
very imperfect and surreptitious had like to have passed 
the press, if the author had not used speedy means of 
prevention; w|ien, perceiving the hazard he ran to be 
wronged, wa^ unwillingly f willing to let them pass as 
now they appear to the world. If any faults have escaped 
the press (as few books can be printed without), impose 
them not on the author, I entreat thee; but rather impute 
them to mine and the printer's oversight, who seriously 



* Gentile, or Gentle, 8th edit. 1650. 

t Willingly, 8th edit, evidently a typographical error. 



XVI MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

promise, on the re-impression hereof, by greater care and 
diligence for this our former defoiilt, to make thee ample 
satisfaction. In the mean while, I remain 

Thine, 

Ed. Blount. * 



* Edward Blonnt, who lived at the Black Bear, Saint Panrs Church- 
yard, appears to have been a bookseller of respectability, and in 
some respects a man of letters. Many dedications and prefaces, 
with as much merit as compositions of this nature generally possess, 
bear his name, and there is every reason to suppose that he trans- 
lated a work from the Italian, which he intituled " The Hospitall of 
Incvrable Fooks,'' &c. 4to. IGOO. Mr. Ames has discovered, from tlie 
Stationer's Register, that he was the son of Ralph Blount or Blunt, 
merchant-taylor of London ; that he was apprenticed to William 
Ponsouby, in 1578. and made free in 1588. It is no slight honour to 
his taste and judgment, that he was one of the partners in the first 
edition of Shakspeare. 



MIOROOOSMOGRAPHY; 

OR, 



I. 

A CHILD 



XS a man in a small letter, yet the best copy of 
Adam before lie tasted of Eve or the apple; and he is 
happy whose small practice in the world can only 
write his character. He is nature's fresh picture 
newly drawn in oil, which time, and much handling, 
dims and defaces. His soul is yet a white paperi 



1 So Washbourne, in his Divine Poems, 12mo. 1054: 

" ere' tis accustom'd unto sin, 

The mind white imjier is, and will admit 
Of any lesson you will write in it." — p. 26. 
Shakspeare, of a child, says, 

" the hand of time 

Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume." 

K. John. II, 1. 
This comparison is carried out to some length in a poem entitled 
Paper, printed in the American Museum in 1788, and there ascribed to 
Dr. Franklin. The authorship is, however, doubtful. See Sparks' s 
Franklin, II, 161. L. 

1 



'1 MICllOCOSMOGRArilY. 

iinscribbled with observations of the worUI, where- 
with, \\t lengtli, it becomes a blurred note-book. He 
is purely happy, because he knows no evil, nor hath 
made means by sin to be acquainted with misery. He 
arrives not at the mischief of being wise, nor endures 
evils to come, by foreseeing them. He kisses and 
loves all, and, when the smart of the rod is past, 
smiles on his beater. Nature and his parents alike 
dandle him, and tice him on with a bait of sugar to a 
draught of wormwood. He plays yet, like a young- 
prentice the first day, and is not come to his task of 
melancholy. ['-All the language he speaks yet is 
tears, and they serve him well enough to express his 
necessity.] His hardest labour is his tongue, as if he 
were loath to use so deceitful an organ ; and he is best 
company with it when he can but prattle. We laugh 
at his foolish sports, but his game is our earnest;-^ and 
his drums, rattles, and hobby-horses, but the emblems 



2 This, and every other passage thoughout the volume, [included 
between brackets,] does not appear in the first edition of 1628. 

3 Behold the child by Nature's kindly law 
Pleased with a rattle, tickled witn a straw : 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite. 
Scarfs, gaiters, gold, amuse his riper stage, 
And beads and prayerbooks are the toys of age. 

Pope's Essay on Man, 11, 275. L. 



A CHILD. 6 

and mocking of* man's business. * His father hath 
writ him as his own little story, wherein he reads 
those days of his life that he cannot remember, and 
sighs to see what innocence he hath out-lived. The 
elder he grows, he is a stair lower from God;^ and, 
like his first father, much worse in his breeches/^ 
lie is the Christian's example, and the old man's re- 
lapse; the one imitates his purenes-:, and the other 
falls into his simplicity. Could he put oflF his body 
with his little coat, he had got eternity without a 
burden, and exchanged but one heaven for another. 



4 See at his feet Home little plan or chart, 
Some fra;:^ment from his dream of human life, 
Sloped by himself with newly learned art, 
A weddin;^ or a func-ral. 
A mourning or a festival. 

Wordiivjorth' s JutiuiafUjrcs of Immortality. L. 

5 Trailing clouds of glory do we come 

From God, who is our home. 
Heaven lies about us in our infancy. 
Shades of the prison-house begin to close 

Upon the growing boy. 
But he beholds the light and whence it flows. 
He sees it in his joy. 

Ibid. L. 

Adam did not, to use the words of the old Geneva Bible, "make 
himself breeches," till he knew sin : the meaning of the passage in 
the text is merely that, as a child advances in age, he commonly pro- 
ceeds in the knowledge and commission of vice and immorality. 



4 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

II. 

A YOUXG FAW FBFACIIER 

XS a bird not yet fledged, tliat hath hopped out of 
his nest to be chirping on a hedge, and will be strag- 
gling abroad at what peril soever. Ilis backwardness 
in the university hath set him thus forward; for had 
he not truanted there, he had not been so hasty a 
divine. His small standing, and time, hath made him 
a proficient only in boldness, out of which, and his 
table-book," he is furnished for a preacher, llis col- 
lections of study are the notes of sermons, which, taken 
up at St. jMary's,'' he utters in the country : and if he 
write brachigraphy,-^ his stock is so much the better. 



7 The custom of writing in table-books, or, as it was then expressed, 
"in tables," is noticed, and instances given in lieecVs Shakspeare^ 
vi, 13. xii, 170. xviii, 88. Dr. Farmer adduces a passage very appli- 
cable to the text, from Hairs character of the hypocrite. "He will 
ever sit where he may be scene best, and in the midst ol the sermou 
pulles out his tahUa in haste, as if he feared to loose that note," »&c. 
Decker, in his Guh Hornebooke., page 8, speaking to his readers, saj'S, 
" out with your tables,'"' &c. 

S St. Mary's church was originally built by king Alfred, and annexed 
to the University of Oxford for the use of the scholars, when St, 
Giles's and St. Peter's (which were till then appropriated to them) 
had been ruined by the violence of the Danes. It was totally rebuilt 
during ihe reign of Henry Yll, Mho gave forty oaks towards the 
materials : and is, to this day, the place of worship in which the public 
sermons are preached before the members of the university. 

9 Brachirjraphy, or short-hand-writing, appears to have been 
much studied in our author's time, and was probably esteemed a 



A YOUNG RAW PREACHER. 5 

His writing is more than liisreadinp:, for lie reads only 
what he gets without book. Thus accomplished he 
comes down to his friends, and his first salutation is 
grace and peace out of the pulpit. His prayer is 
conceited, and no man remembers his college more 
at large. 10 The pace of his sermon is a full career. 



fashionable accomplishment. It was first introduced into this country 
by Peter Bales, who, in 15!)0, published The Wridnf/ Schoolmaster, 
a treatise consisting of three parts, the first " of Brachjgraphie, 
that is, to write as fost as a man speaketh treatably, writing but one 
letter for a word ;" the second, of Orthography; and the third ol Calli- 
graphy. Imprinted at London, by T. Orwin, &c. 15fK), 4to. A second 
edition, "• with sundry new additions," appeared in 1597, 12mo. Im- 
printed at London, by George Shawe, &c. Holinshed gives the follow- 
ing description of one of Bales's performances : ''The tenth of August 
(1575,) a rare peece of worke, and almost incredible, was brought to 
passe by an Englishman borne in the citie of London, named Peter 
Bales, who by his Industrie and practise of his pen, coutriued and 
writ within the compasse of a penie, in Latiue, the Lord's praier, 
the creed, the ten commaudements, a praier to God, a praier lor the 
queene, his posie, his name, the dale of the moneth, the yeare of our 
Lord, and the reigne of the queene. And on the seuenteenthe of 
August next following, at Hampton court, he presented the same to 
the queen's maiestie, in the head of a ring of gold, couered with a 
christall; and presented therewith an excellent spectacle by him 
deuised, for the easier reading thereof: wherewith hir maiestie read 
all that was written therein with great admiration, and commended 
the same to the lords of the councell, and the ambassadors, and did 
weare the same manie times vpon hir finger." Holinshetrs Chronicle^ 
ixige 1-262, b. edit, folio. Load. 1587. 

10 It is customary in all sermons delivered before the L^niversity, 
to use an introductory prayer for the founder of, and principal bene- 
factors to, the preacher's individual college, as well as for the ofticers 
and members of the university in general. This, however, would 
appear very ridiculous when'' /ieco/«^6>rfci«7i to his friends,'" or, in 
other words, preaches before a country congregation. This is also 



6 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

and he runs wildly over liill and dale, till the clock 
stop him. The labour of it is chiefly in his lungs; 
and the only thing he has made ui^^ it himself, is 
the fiices. He takes on against the pope without 
mercy, and has a jest still in lavender for Bellarmine : 
yet lie preaches heresy, if it conies in his way, though 
with a mind, I must needs say, very orthodox. His 
action is ail passion, and his speech interjections. 
He has an excellent faculty in bemoaning the people, 
and spits with a very good grace. [His stile is com- 
pounded of twenty several men's, only his body imi- 
tates someone extraordinary.] He will not draw his 
handkercher out of his place, nor blow his nose with- 
out discretion. His commendation is, that he never 
looks upon book; and indeed he was never used to it. 
He preaches but once a year, though twice on Sunday; 
for the stuif is still the same, only the dressing a 
little altered : he has more tricks with a sermon, than 
a taylor with an old cloak, to turn it, and piece it, 
and at last quite disguise it with a new preface. If 



mentioned in Whimzies, 8vo. 1631, p 57. "lice must now l;)etake 
himself to prayer and devotion ; remember the founder, benefactors^ 
head, and members of that famous foundation : all which he performes 
with as much zeale as an actor after the end of a play, when hee 
prayes for his majestic, the lords of his most honourable privie 
councell, and all that love the king.'" 
110/ first edit. 1628. 



A YOUXG RAW PREACHER. i 

lie liave waded farther in his profession, and would 
shew reading of his own, his authors are postils,i- and 
his school divinity a catechism. His fjishion and 
demure habit gets him in with some town-precisian, i-^ 
and makes him a guest on Friday nights. You shall 
know him by his narrow velvetcape, and serge facing; 
and his ruff, next his hair, the shortest thing about 
him. The conipanion of his walk is some zealous 
tradesman, whom he astonishes with strange points, 
which they both understand alike. His friends and 
much painfulness may prefer him to thirty pounds a 
year, and this means to a chambermaid ;i^ with whom 
we leave him now in the bonds of wedlock: — next 
Sunday you shall have him again. 



12 Annotations. L. 

13 A puritan. L. 

14 Macanlay says : The relation between priests and hand-maidens 
was a theme for endless jest ; nor would it be easy to find in the 
comedy of the seventeenth century, a single instance of a clergyman 
who wins a spouse above the rank of a cook. Uistory of England, 
chap. iii. L. 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



III. 



A GRAVE DIVIXK 
±8 one that knows the burthen of his calling, and 
hath studied to make his shoulders sufficient ; for 
which he hath not been hasty to launch forth of his 
port, the university, but expected the ballast of learn- 
ing, and the wind of opportunity. Divinity is not 
the beginning but the end of his studies ; to which 
lie takes the ordinary stair, and makes the arts his 
way. He counts it not prophaneness to be polished 
with human reading, or to smooth his way by Aris- 
totle to school-divinity. lie has sounded both reli- 
gions, and anchored in the best, and is a protestant 
out of judgment, not faction ; not because his country, 
but his reason is on this side. The ministry is his 
choice, not refuge, ^nd yet the pulpit not his itch, 
but fear. His discourse is substance, not all rhetoric, 
and he utters more things than words. His speech 
is not helped with inforced actioik, but the matter acts 
itself. He shoots all his meditations at one but ; and 
beats upon his text, not the cushion ; making his 
hearers, not the pulpit, groan. In citing of popish 
errors, he cuts them with arguments, not cudgels them 
with barren invectives; and labours more to shew the 



A GRAVE DIVIXE. \) 

truth of his cause than the spleen. His sermon is 
limited by the method, not the hourglass; and his 
devotion goes along with him out of the pulpit. He 
comes not up thrice a week, because he would not be 
idle; nor talks three hours together, because he would 
not talk nothing : but his tongue preaches at fit times, 
and his conversation is the every day's exercise. In 
matters of ceremony, he is not ceremonious, but thinks 
he owes that reverence to the church to bow his judg- 
ment to it, and make more conscience of schism, than 
a surplice. He esteems the church hierarchy as the 
church's glory, and however we jar with Rome, would 
not have our confusion distinguish us. In simoniacal 
purchases he thinks his soul goes in the bargain, and 
is loath to come by promotion so dear : yet his worth 
at length advances him, and the price of his own merit 
buys him a living. He is no base grater of his tythes, 
and will not wrangle for the odd egg. The law3er 
is the only man he hinders, by whom he is spited for 
taking up quarrels. He is a main pillar of our church, 
though not yet dean or canon, and his life our reli- 
gion's best apology, 15 His death is the last sermon, 



15 I caunot forbear to close this admirahle character ^vith the 
heautiful description of a - poure Persone,'" rich of holy thought 
and tcerk, given by the fother of English poetry :— 

2 



10 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

where, in the pulpit of his bed, he instructs men 
to die by his example. 



IV. 

A MEER DVLL PHYSICIAN. 

JZLIS practice is some business at bedsides, and his 
speculation an urinal : he is distinguished from an 
empiric, by a round velvet cap and doctor's gown, yet 
no man takes degrees more superfluously, for he is 
doctor howsoever. He is sworn to Galen and Hippo- 
crates, as university men to their statutes, though they 
never saw them ; and his discourse is all aphorisms, 



" Benigne he was, and wonder diligent, 
And in adversite lul patient : 
And swiche he was ypreved often sithes. 
Ful loth were him to cursen for his tithes, 
But rather wolde he yeven out of doute. 
Unto his poure pnrishens aboute, 
Of his oflring, and eke of his substance. 
He coude in litel thing have sufhsance. 
Wide was his parish, and houses fcr asonder. 
But he ne left nought for no rain ne thonder, 
In sikenesse and in mischief to visite 
The ferrest in his parish, moche and lite, 
Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf. 
* * * * 

And though he lioly were, and vertuous, 
He was to sinful men not dispitous, 
Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne. 
But in his teching discrete and benigne. 



A MEER DULL PHYSICIAN. 11 



16 



though his reading be only Alexis of Piedmont, 
or the Regiment of Health. i~ The best cure he has 



To draweu folk to hevea, with fairenesse, 
By good ensample, was his besinesse. 
* * * * 

He waited after no pompe ne revereuce, 
Ne maked him no spiced conscience, 
But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve. 
He taught, but first he folwed ithimselve." 

Chaucer, Prol. to Cant. Tales, v. 485. 
We may surely conclude with a line from the same poem, 
" A better preest I trowe that nowher nou is." 

16 The secretes of the reverencle maister Alexis of Piemovnt, con- 
tainyng exccllente remedies against diuers diseases, &c., appear to 
have been a very favourite study either with the physicians, or their 
patients, about this period. 

They were originally written in Italian, ard were translated into 
English by William Warde, of which editions were printed at Loudon, 
in 1558, 1.562, 1505, and 1615. Inl603, ii fourth edition of a Latin version 
appeared at Basil; and from Ward's dedication to '"the lorde Russell, 
erle of Bedford," it seems that the French and Dutch were not 
without so great a treasure in their own languages. A specimen of 
the importance of this publication may be given in the title of the 
first secret. "The maner and secrete to conserue a man's youth, 
and to holde back olde age, to maintaine a man always in helth and 
strength, as in the fayrest floure of his yeres." 

17 The Regiment of Ilelthe by Thomas Paynell, is another volume 
of the same description, and was printed by Thomas Bertholette, in 
1541. 4to. 

From a subsequent edition, obligingly pointed out to me by the rev. 
Mr. arch-deacon Nares, I find that this also is a translation : Jiegimen 
Sanitatis Salerni. This booke teachyng allj^eopleto gouernethein 
health is translated out of the Latine tongue into En glishe, by Thomas 
Paynell, ivhiche booke is amended, augmented, and diligently im- 
2winted. 1575. Colophon. 1 Jmj)rynted at London, by Wylliam Hotv, 
for Abraham TJeale. The prefiice says, that it was compiled for the 
use " of the moste noble and victorious kynge of England, and of 
Faunce,byall the doctours in Phisickeofthe UuiuersiLie of Salerne." 



12 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

done, is upon his own purse, which from a lean sick- 
liness he hath made lusty, and in flesh. His learning 
consists much in reckoning up the hard names of 
diseases, and the superscriptions of gally-pots in his 
apothecary's shop, which are ranked in his shelves 
and the doctor's memory. He is, indeed, only lan- 
guaged in diseases, and speaks Greek many times 
when he knows not. If he have been but a by-stander 
at some desperate recovery, he is slandered with it 
though he be guiltless; and this breeds his reputation, 
and that his practice, for his skill is merely opinion. 
Of all odours he likes best the smell of urine, and 
holds Vespasian's^'^ rule, that no gain is unsavory. 
If you send this once to him you must resolve to be 
sick howsoever, for he will never leave examining 
your water, till he has shaked it into a disease :^^ 
then follows a writ to his drugger in a strange 



18 Vespasian, tenth emperor of Rome, imposed a tax upon urine, 
and when his son Titus remonstrated with him on the meanness of 
the act," Peeuniam," says Suetouius,"ex prima pensione admovitad 
nares, suscitans riiim odore offencleretur .^ et illo negante, atqui, 
inquit e lotio est." 

19 " Vpon the market-daj' he is mncli haunted with vrinals, where, 
if he tinde anj- thing, (though he Icnowe nothing,) yet hee will say 
some-what, which if it hit to some purpose, with a fewe fustian 
words, hec will seeme a piece of strange stuffe." Character of an 
unworthy physician. '"'•The Good and the Badde,'''' by Nicholas Bre- 
ton. 4to. 1G18. 



A MEER DULL PHYSICIAN. 13 

tongue, which he understands, though he cannot 
conster. If he see you himself, his presence is the 
worst visitation : for if he cannot heal your sickness 
he will be sure to help it. He translates his apothe- 
cary's shop into your chamber, and the very windows 
and benches must take physic. He tells you your 
malady in Greek, though it be but a cold, or head- 
ach ; which by good endeavour and diligence he 
may bring to some moment indeed. His most 
unfaithful act is, that he leaves a man gasping, and 
his pretence is, death and he have a quarrel and 
must not meet ; but his fear is, lest the carkass 
should bleed. -^' Anatomies, and other spectacles of 
mortality, have hardened him, and he is no more 
struck with a funeral than a grave-maker. Noble- 
men use him for a director of their stomach, and 
ladies for wantonness,- ^ especially if he be a proper 



20 That the murdered body bleeds at the approach of the murderer, 
was, in our author's time, a commonly received opinion. Holius- 
hed affirms that the corps of Henry the Sixth bled as it was carrying 
for interment ; and Sir Kenelm Digby so firmly believed in the truth 
of the report, that he has endeavoured to explain the reason. It is 
remarked by Mr. Stcevens, in a note to Shakespeare, that the opinion 
seems to be derived from the ancient Swedes, or Northern nations, 
from whom we descend ; as they practised this method of trial in all 
dubious cases. 

21 "• Faith, doctor, it is well, thy study is to please 

The female sex, and how their corp'rall griefes to ease." 
Goddard's Mastif Whelp. Satires. 4to. Without date. Sat. 17. 



14 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

man. 22 If he be single, he is in league with his she- 
apothecary; and because it is the physician, the 
husband is patient. If he have leisure to be idle 
(that is to study,) he has a smatcli at alcumy, and is 
sick of the philosopher's stone ; a disease uneurable, 
but by an abundant phlebotomy of the purse. His 
two main opposites are a mountebank and a good 
woman, and he never shews his learning so much as 
in an invective against them and their boxes. In 
conclusion, he is a sacking consumption, and a very 
brother to the worms, for they are both in gendered 
out of man's corruption. 



AN ALDERMAN. 

JLXE is venerable in his gown, more in his beard, 
wherewith he sets not forth so much his own, as the 
face of a city. You must look on him as one of the 
town gates, and consider him not as a body, but a 
corporation. His eminency above others hath made 
him a man of worship, for he had never been pre- 
ferred, but that he was worth thousands. He over- 



22 Proper for handsome. 



AN ALDERMAN. 15 

sees the commonwealth, as his shop, and it is an 
argument of his policy, that he has thriven by his 
craft. He is a rigorous magistrate in his ward ; yet 
his scale of justice is suspected, lest it be like the 
balances in his warehouse. A ponderous man he is> 
and substantial, for his weight is commonly ex- 
traordinary, and in his preferment nothing rises so 
much as his belly. His head is of no great depth, 
yet well furnished; and when it is in conjunction 
with his brethren, may bring forth a city apophthegm, 
or some such sage matter. He is one that will not 
hastily run into error, for he treads with great de- 
liberation, and his judgment consists much in his 
pace. His discourse is commonly the annals of his 
mayoralty, and what good government there was 
in the days of his gold chain, though the door posts 
were the only things that suffered reformation. 23 
He seems most sincerely religious, especially on 
solemn days ; for he comes often to church to make a 



23 It was usual for public officers to have painted or gilded posts 
at their doors, on which proclamations, and other documents of that 
description, were placed, in order to he read by the populace. See 
various allusions to this custom, in Seed's Shakspeare, v. 207. Old 
Plays, iii. 303. The reformation means that they were, in the lan- 
guage of our modern churchwardens, "repaired and beautified," dur- 
ing the reign of our alderman. 



16 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

shew, [and is a part of the quire hangings.] He is the 
highest stair of his profession, and an example to 
his trade, what in time they may come to. He 
makes very much of his authority, but more of his 
sattin doublet, which, though of good years, bears 
its age very well, and looks fresh every Sunday : but 
his scarlet gown is a monument, and lasts from 



VI. 

A DISCONTENTED MAN 

As one that is fallen out with the world, and will be 
revenged on himself. Fortune has denied him in 
something, and he now takes pet, and will be miser- 
able in spite. The root of his disease is a self- 
humouring pride, and an accustomed tenderness not 
to be crossea in his fancy; and the occasion com- 
monly of one of these three, a hard father, a peevish 
wench, or his ambition thwarted. He considered 
not the nature of the world till he felt it, and all 
blows fall on him heavier, because they light not 
first on his expectation. He has now foregone all 
but his pride, and is yet vain-glorious in the ostenta- 
tion of his melancholy. His composure of himself 



A DISCONTENTED MAN. 17 

is a studied carelessness, with his arms across, and a 
neglected hanging of his head and cloak ; and he is 
as great an enemy to an hat-band, as fortune. He 
quarrels at the time and up-starts, and sighs at the 
neglect of men of parts, that is, such as himself. 
His life is a perpetual satyr, and he is still girding-^ 
the age's vanity, when this very anger shews he too 
much esteems it. He is much displeased to see 
men merry, and wonders what they can find to laugh 
at. He nevers draws his own lips higher than a 
smile, and frowns wrinkle him before forty. He at 
last falls into that deadly melancholy to be a bitter 
hater of men, and is the most apt companion for any 
mischief. He is the spark that kindles the common- 
wealth, and the bellows himself to blow it : and if he 
turn any thing, it is commonly one of these, either 
friar, traitor, or mad-man. 



24 To gird, is to sneer at, or scorn any one. Falstaflf says, "men 
of all sorts take a pride to r/ircl at vac,''''— Henry IV, Part 2, 



^ 



18 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

VII. 

AN ANTIQUARY, ■ 

JlLe is a man strangly thrifty of time past, and an 
enemy indeed to his maw, whenee he fetches out 
many things wlien they are now all rotten and 
stinking. lie is one that hath that unnatural 
disease to be enamoured of old age and wrinkles, 
and loves all things (as Dutchmen do cheese,) 
the better for being mouldy and worm-eaten. He 
is of our religion, because we say it is mostantient; 
and yet a broken statue would almost make him 
an idolater. A great admirer he is of the rust 
of old monuments, and reads only those characters, 
where time hath eaten out the letters. He will 
go you forty miles to see a saint's well or a ruined 
abbey; and there be but a cross or stone foot-stool 
in the way, he'll be considering it so long, till 
he forget his journey. His estate consists much 
in shekels, and Roman coins ; and he hath 
more pictures of Caesar, than James or Elizabeth. 
Beggars cozen him with musty things which they 
have raked from dunghills, and he preserves there lU-^'^- 
rags for precious relicks. He loves no library, but 



AX ANTIQUARY. 19 

where there are more spiders volumes than authors, 
and looks with great admiration on the antique work 
of cobwebs. Printed books he contemns, as a novelty 
of this latter age, but a manuscript he pores on ever- 
lastingly, especially if the cover be all moth-eaten, 
and the dust make a parenthesis between every 
syllable. 25 He would give all the books in his study 
(which are rarities all,) for one of the old Roman 
binding, or six lines of Tully in his own hand. His 
chamber is hung commonly with strange beast skins, 
and is a kind of charnel-house of bones extraordinary; 
and his discourse upon them, if you will hear him, 
shall last longer. His very attire is that which is 
the eldest out of fashion, [^and i/on mof/ pick a 
criticism out of his hrecchcs.'] He never looks upon 
himself till he is grey-haired, and then he is pleased 
with his own antiquity. His grave does not fright 
him, for he has been used to sepulchers, and he likes 
death the better, because it gathers him to his 
fathers. 



25 "Time has eaten out the letters, and the dust makes a parenthesis 
between each syllable." The Antiquarij, by Marmion. Old Plays. 
X. 6-2. L. 

* In the first edition it stands thus :— '• and his hat is as antient as 
the toicerof Babel.'' 



20 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

VIIT. 

A YOUXGER BROTHER. 

JtllS eUler brother was the Esau, that came out 
first and left him like Jacob at his heels. His father 
has done with him, as Pharoah to the children of 
Israel, that would have them make brick and give 
them no straw, so he tasks him to be a gentleman, 
and leaves him nothing to maintain it. The pride 
of his house has undone him, which the elder's 
knighthood must sustain, and his beggary that 
knighthood. His birth and bringing up will not 
suffer him to descend to the means to get wealth; 
but he stands at the mercy of the world, and which 
is worse, of his brother. He is something better 
than the serving-men ; yet they more saucy with 
him than he bold with the master, who beholds him 
with a countenance of stern awe, and checks him 
oftener than his liveries. His brother's old suits and 
he are much alike in request, and cast off now and 
* then one to the other. Nature hath furnished him 
with a little more wit upon compassion, for it is 
like to be his best revenue. If his annuity stretch 
so far, he is sent to the university, and with great 



A YOUNGER BROTHER. 21 

heart'burniDg takes upon him the ministry, as a 
profession he is condemmed to b"y his ill fortune. 
Others take a more crooked path yet, the king's high- 
way ; where at length their vizard is plucked off, 
and they strike fair for Tyburn : -f' but their brother's 
pride, not love, gets them a pardon. His last refuge 
is the Low-countries,-" where rags and lice are no 
scandal, where he lives a poor gentleman of a company, 
ajid dies without a shirt. The only thing that may 
better his fortunes is an art he has to make a gentle- 
woman, wherewith he baits now and then some rich 
widow that is hungry after his blood. He is com- 
monly discontented and desperate, and the form 
of his exclamation is, tluit churl my hrothcr. 
He loves not his country for this unnatural 



26 Thus Macaulay speaking of the highway-man of a later day, 
says : Some times he was a man of good family and education. 
History of England^ I, chap. iii. L. 

27 The Low-countries appear to have afforded ample room 
for ridicule at all times. In " A brief Character of the Lmv- 
countries under the States, being Three Weeks Observation of the 
Vices and Virtues of the Inhabitants, written by Owen Felltham, 
and printed Lond. 1659, l"2rao. ^we find them epitomized as a 
general sea-land— the great bog of Europe— an universal quag- 
mire — in short, a green cheese in pickle. The sailors (in which 
denomination the anther appears to include all the natives,) he 
describes as being able to " drink, rail, swear, niggle, steal, and 
be loivsie alike.'" P. 40. 



22 MICROCOSMOGRAPHr. 

custom, and would have long since revolted to 
the Spaniard, but for Keut-"^ o^^Jj which he holds 
in admiration. 

IX. 

A MEER FORMAL MAX 

XS somewhat more than the shape of a man; for he 
has his length, breadth, and colour. "When you 
have seen his outside, you have looked through 
him, and need employ your discovery no farther. 
His reason is merely example, and his action is not 
guided by his understanding, but he sees other men 
do thus, and he follows them. He is a negative, for 
we cannot call him a wise man, but not a fool; nor 
an honest man, but not a knave; nor a protestant 



28 GavelkiniU or the practice of dividing lands equally among all 
the male children of the deceased, was (according to Spelman,) 
adopted hy the Saxons, from Germany and is noticed by Tacitus in his 
description of that nation. Gloss Archaiol. folio, Loud. 1GC4. Har- 
rison, in The Description of England, prefixed to Ilolinshed^s 
Chronicle, (vol. i. page 180,) says, "Gauell kind is all the male child- 
ren equallie to inherit, and is continued to this date in /ie«<, where 
it is onelie to my knowledge retried, and no where else in Eng- 
land.'" And Lambarde, in his Uustomes of Kent, {Perambulation^ 
4to. 1596, page 538.) thus notices it: — "The custom of Grauelkynde 
is generall,and spreadeth itselfe throughout the whole shj're, into all 
laudes subiect by auncient tenure vnto the same, such places onely 
excepted, where it is altered by acte of parlearaeut." 



A MEER FORMAL MAN. 23 

but not a papist. The chief burden of his brain is 
the carriage of his body and the setting of his face 
in a good frame; which he performs the better, 
because he is not disjointed with other meditations. 
His religion is a good quiet subject, and he prays as 
he swears, in the phrase of the land. He is a fair 
guest, and a fjiir inviter, and can excuse his good 
cheer in the accustomed apology. He has some 
faculty in mangling of a rabbit, and the distribution 
of his morsel to a neighbour's trencher. He appre- 
hends a jest by seeing men smile, and laughs orderly 
himself, when it comes to his turn. His businesses 
with his friends are to visit them, and whilst the 
business is no more, he can perform this well enough. 
His discourse is the news that he hath gathered in 
his walk, and for other matters his discretion is, 
that he will only what he can, that is, say nothing. 
His life is like one that runs to the church- walk '■^'' 
to take a turn or two, and so passes. He hath 
staid in the world to fill a number ; and when he 
is gone, there wants one, and there's an end. 



29 Minster ivalk, 1st edit. 



24 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



A CnURCII-PAPIST 

Xs one that parts his religion betwixt his conscience 
and his purse, and comes to church not to serve God 
but the king. The face of the hiw makes him wear 
the mask of the gospel, which he uses not as a means 
to save his soul, but charges. He loves Popery 
well, but is loth to lose by it; and though he be some- 
thing scared with the bulls of Rome, yet they are far 
off, and he is struck with more terror at the appari- 
tor. Once a month he presents himself at the church, 
to keep off the church-warden, and brings in his body 
to save his bail.-^^ He kneels with the congregation, 
l)ut prays by himself, and asks God forgiveness for 
coming thither. If he be forced to stay out a sermon, 
he pulls his hat over his eyes, and frowns out the hour ; 
and when he comes home, thinks to make amends for 
this fault by abusing the preacher. His main policy 
is to shift off the communion, for which he is never 
unfurnished of a quarrel, and will be sure to be out 
of charity at Easter; and indeed he lies not, for he 



30 Bj'^ a law enacted under Elizabeth the penalty of imprisonment 
was imposed on all persons absenting themselves from church for 
the space of one month — Hallam, Const. Hist. /, 215. L. 



A CHURCH-PAPIST. 2o 

has a quarrel to the sacrament. He would make a 
bad martyr and good traveller, for his conscience is 
so large he could never wander out of it; and in 
Constantinople would be circumcised with a reserva- 
tion. His wife is more zealous and therefore more 
costly, and he bates her in tires^' what she stands 
him in religion. 22 But we leave him hatching 
plots against the state, and expecting Spinola."^'^ 



31 The word tire is probably here used as an abbreviation of the 
word attire, address, ornament. 

32 " Many indeed, especially of the female sex, whose religion, lying 
commonly more in sentiment then reason, is less ductile to the 
sophisms of worldly wisdom stood out and endured the penalties." — 
Hallam, Const. Hist. /, 159. L. 

.33 Ambrose Spinola was one of the most celebrated and excellent 
commanders that Spain ever possessed : he was born, in 15G9, of a 
noble family, and distinguished himself through life in being opposed 
to prince Maurice of Nassau, the greatest general of his age, by whom 
he was ever regarded with admiration and respect. He died in 1630, 
owing to a disadvantage sustained by his troops at the siege of 
Cassel, which was to be entirely attributed to the imprudent orders 
he received from Spain, and which that government compelled him 
to obey. This disaster broke his heart; and he died with the ex- 
clamation of " thei/ have robbed me of mxj honour ; " an idea he was 
unable to survive. It is probable that, at the time this character 
was composed, many of the disaffected in England were in expecta- 
tion of an attack to be made on this country by the Spaniards, 
under the command of Spinola. 



26 MICROCOSMOGRAPIIY. 

XL 

A SELF-CONCEITED MAN 

XS one that knows himself so well, that he does 
not know himself. Two excellent well-dones have 
undone him, and he is guilty of it that first com- 
mended him to madness. He is now become his 
own book, which he pores on continually, yet like 
a truant reader skips over the harsh places, and 
surveys only that which is pleasant. In the specu- 
lation of his own good parts, his eyes, like a 
drunkard's, see all double, and his fancy, like an old 
man's spectacles, make a great letter in a small 
print. He imagines every place where he comes 
his theater, and not a look stirring but his specta- 
tor; and conceives men's thoughts to be very idle, 
that is [only] busy about him. His walk is still in 
the fashion of a march, and like his opinion unac- 
companied, with his eyes most fixed upon his own 
person, or on others with reflection to himself. If 
he have done any thing that has past with applause, 
he is always re-acting it alone, and conceits the 
extasy his hearers were in at every period. His 
discourse is all positions and definitive decrees. 



A SELF-CONCEITED MAN. 27 

witli thus it must he and thus it is, and lie will not 
humble his authority to prove it. His teneut is 
always singular and aloof from the vulgar as he can, 
from which you must not hope to wrest him. He 
has an excellent humour for an heretick, and in 
these days made the first Arminian. He prefers 
Ramus before Aristotle, and Paracelsus before 
Galen, 3^ [and whosoever loith most paradox is com- 
mended.'] He much pities the world that has no 
more insight in his parts, when he is too well dis- 
covered even to this very thought. A flatterer is a 
dunce to him, for he can tell him nothing but what 
he knows before: and yet he loves him too, because 
he is like himself. Men are merciful to him, and 
let him alone, for if he be once driven from his 
humour, he is like two inward friends fallen out: 
his own bitter enemy and discontent presently makes 
a murder. In sum, he is a bladder blown up with 
wind, which the least flaw crushes to nothing. 



3~i and LijMus his hopping stile before either Tally or Quintilian. 
First edit. 



28 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

XII. 

.1 TOO IDLY RESERVED MAN 

XS one that is a fool with discretion, or a strange 
piece of politician, that manages the state of him- 
self. His actions are his privy-council, wherein no 
man must partake beside. He speaks under rule 
and prescription, and dare not shew his teeth with- 
out 3Iachiavel. He converses with his neighbours as 
he would in Spain, and fears an inquisitive man as 
much as the inquisition. He suspects all questions 
for examinations, and thinks yuu would pick, some- 
thing out of him, and avoids you. His breast is 
like a gentlewoman's closet, which locks up every 
toy or trifle, or some bragging mountebank that 
makes every stinking thing a secret. He delivers 
you common matters with great conjuration of 
silence, and whispers you in the ear acts of parlia- 
ment. You may as soon wrest a tooth from him as 
a paper, and whatsoever he reads is letters. He 
dares not talk of great men for fear of bad com- 
ments, and he knoics not Jiow his words may he misap- 
plied. Ask his opinion, and he tells you his doubt; 
and he never hears any thing more astonishedly 



A TOO IDLY RESERVED MAN. 29 

than what he knows before. His words are like the 
cards at primivist,'^^ where 6 is 18, and 7, 21 ; for 
they never signify what they sound ; but if he tell 
you he will do a thing, it is as much as if he swore 
he would not. He is one, indeed, that takes all 
men to be craftier then they are, and puts himself to 
a great deal of affliction to hinder their plots and 
designs, where they mean freely. He has been 
long a riddle himself, but at last finds Qlldipuses ; 



35 Primivist and primero were, in all probability, the same game, 
although Minshew, in his Dictionary, calls them '•'•two games at 
cardes." The latter fie explains, " primum et primum visum, that is, 
first and first scene, because hee that can shew such an order of cardes, 
first winnes the game." The coincidence between Mr. Struit's de- 
scription of the former and the passage in the text, shews that there 
could be little or no difference between the value of the cards in 
these games, or in the manner of playing them. " Each player had 
four cards dealt to him, one by one, the seven was the highest card, 
in point of number, that he could avail himself of, which counted for 
twenty-one, the six counted for sixteen, the five for fifteen, and the 
ace for the same," &c. (Sports and Pastimes, 247.) The honourable 
Daincs Barrington conceived ihat Primero was introduced by Philip 
the Second, or some of his suite, whilst in England. Shakspeare 
proves that it was played in the royal circle. 

" I left him (Henry VIII.) at Primero 

With the duke of Suffolk." 

Renfy YIIT. 

So Decker: "Talke of none but lords and such ladies with whom 
you have plaid at Primero.''''— GuVs Uorne-booke, 1600. 37. 

Among the marquis of Worcester's celebrated '■'•Century of Inven- 
tions,'" 12mo. l(i()3, is one " so contrived without suspicion, that plaj-^- 
ing at Primero at cards, one may, without clogging his memory, 
keep reckoning of all sixes, sevens, and aces, which he hath dis- 
carded."— No. 87. 



30 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

for his over-acted dissimulation discovers him, and 
men do with him as they would with Hebrew 
letters, spell him backwards and read him. 



XIII. 
A TAVERN- 

As a degree, or (if you will,) a pair of stairs above 
an ale-house, where men are drunk with more credit 
and apology. If the vintner's nose"^'^ be at door, it 
is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is sup- 
plied by the ivy-bush : the rooms are ill breathed 
like the drinkers that have been washed well over 
night, and are smelt-to fasting next morning; not 
furnished with beds apt to be defiled, but more 
necessary implements, stools, table, and a chamber- 
pot. It is a broacher of more news then hogsheads, 
and more jests than news, which are sucked up here 
by some spungy brain, and from thence squeezed 
into a comedy. Men come here to make merry, 
but indeed make a noise, and this musick above is 
answered with the clinkin"; below. The drawers are 



36 ''Enquire out those tauernes which are best customd, whose 
maisters are oftenest drunk, for that confirrues their taste, and that 
they choose wholesome wines."— Z>ecA;e7'''5 Gufs Horne-hoolce^ 1G09. 



A TAVERN. 31 

the civilest people in it, men of good bringing up, 
and howsoever we esteem of them, none can boast 
more justly of their high calling. 'Tis the best 
theater of natures, where they are truly acted, not 
played, and^ the business as in the rest of the world 
up and down, to wit, from the bottom of the cellar 
to the great chamber. A melancholy man would 
find here matter to work upon, to see heads as brit- 
tle as glasses, and often broken; men come hitherto 
quarrel, and come hither to be made friends: and if 
Plutarch will lend me his simile, it is even Tele- 
phus's sword-^' that makes wounds and cures them. 
It is the common consumption of the afternoon, 
and the murderer or maker-awayof a rainy day. It 
is the torrid zone that scorches ^^e^s face, and tobacco 
the gun-powder that blows it up. Much harm 
would be done, if the charitable vintner had not 
water ready for these flames. A house of sin you 
may call it, but not a house of darkness, for the 
candles are never out; audit is like those countries 
far in the North, where it is as clear at mid-night as 



37 Teleplnis had been wounded by Achilles and was told by the 
oracle that only he who wounded could cure him. Achilles after- 
ward healed the wound by means of the rust of the spear which had 
inflicted it. L. 

38 Ms, First edit. 



32 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

at mid-day. After a long sitting, it becomes like a 
street in a dashing shower, where the spouts are 
flushing above, and the conduits running below, 
while the Jordans like swelling rivers overflow their 
banks. To give you the total reckoning of it; it is 
the busy man's recreation, the idle man's business, 
the melancholy man's sanctuary, the stranger's wel- 
come, the inns-of-court man's entertainment, the 
scholar's kindness, and the citizen's courtesy. It is 
the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of canary"^" 
their book, whence we leave them. 



39 The editor of the edition in 1732, has altered canary to "«Acr- 
ry," for what reason I am at a loss to discover, and have connequently 
restored the reading of the first edition. Veuner gives the 
following description of this favonrite liquor. "Canarie-wiue, 
which beareth the name of the islands from whence it is brought, is 
of some termed a sacke, with this adjunct, sweete; but yet very 
improperly, for it difiereth not only from sacke in sweetness and 
pleasantness of taste, but also in colour and consistence, for it is 
not so white in colour as sack, nor so thin in substance ; wherefore 
it is more nutritive than sack, and less penetrative." Via recta ad 
Vitam longum. 4to. 1»)2'2. In HowelPs time, Canary wine was much 
adulterated. "I think," says he, in one of his Letters, "there is 
more Canary brought into England than to all the world besides ; 1 
think also, there is a hundred times more drunk under the name of 
Canary wine, than there is brought in ; for Sherries and Malagas, well 
mingled, pass for Canaries in most taverns. When Sacks and Cana- 
ries," he C(mtinues, "were brought in first amongst us, they were 
used to be drunk in aqua vitie measures, and 'twas held fit only for 
those to drink who were used to carry their legs in their hands, their 
eyesxipon their noses, and an almanack in their bones ; but now they 
go down every one's throat, both young and old, like milk." Howell, 
Letter to the lord Cliff, dated Oct. 7, 1034. 



A SHARK. 33 

XIV. 

A SHARK 

XiS one whom all other means have failed, and he 
now lives of himself. He is some needy cashiered 
fellow, whom the world hath oft flung off, j^et still 
clasps again, and is like one a drowning, fastens 
upon any thing that is next at hand. Amongst other 
of his shipwrecks he has happily lost shame, and this 
want supplies him. No man puts his brain to more use 
than he, for his life is a daily invention, and each 
meal a new stratagem. He has an excellent memory 
for his acquaintance, though there passed but lioio do 
you betwixt them seven years ago, it shall sufl5ce for 
an embrace, and that for money. He offers you a 
pottle of sack out of joy to see you, and in requital 
of his courtesy you can do no less than pay for it. 
He is fumbling with his purse-strings, as a school- 
boy with his points, when he is going to be whip- 
ped, 'till the master, weary with long stay, forgives 
him. When the reckoning is paid, he says, It must 
not be so, yet is strait pacified, and cries, "What rem- 
edy ? His borrowings are like subsidies, each man a 
shilling or two, as he can well dispend; which they 
5 



34 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

lend him, not with a hope to be repaid, but that he 
will come no more. lie holds a strange tyranny 
over men, for he is their debtor, and they fear him 
as a creditor. He is proud of any employment, 
though it be but to carry commendations, which he 
will be sure to deliver at eleven of the clock.'" 
They in courtesy bid him stay, and he in manners 
cannot deny them. If he find but a good look to 
assure his welcome, he becomes their half-boarder, 
and haunts the threshold so long 'till he forces good 
nature to the necessity of a quarrel. Publick invita- 
tions he will not wrong with his absence, and is the 
best witness of the sheriff's hospitality. ' ' Men shun 
him at length as they would do an infection, and he 
is never crossed in his way if there be but a lane to 



40 We learn from Harrison's Description of England, prefixed to 
Bo\\ui^hed,i\mi eleven o'clock was the uf^ual time for dinner during 
the reign of Elizabeth. " With vs the nobilitie, gentrie, and students, 
doo ordinarilie go to dinner at eleiien before noone, and to supper at 
flue, or between tiue and ^•ix at afternoone.'" (vol. i. page 171. edit. 
1587.) Tlie alteration in manners at this time is rather singularly 
evinced, from a passage immediately following the above quotation, 
where we find that merchants and husbandmen dined and supped at 
a later hour than the jwbility. 

41 Alluding to the public dinners given by the sheriff at particular 
seasons of the year. So in The Widoir, a comedy, 4to. 1652. 
" And as at a sheriff's table. O blest custome ! 
A poor indebted gentleman may dine, 
Feed well, and without fear, and depart so.'' 



A CARRIER. 35 

escape him. He has done with tlie age as his 
clothes to him, hung on as long as he could, and at 
last drops off. 

XV. 

A CARRIER 

As his own hackney-man ; for he lets himself out 
to travel as well as his horses. He is the ordinary 
embassador between friend and friend, the father 
and the son, and brings rich presents to the one, 
but never returns any back again. He is no unlet- 
tered man, though in shew simple; for questionless, 
he has much in his bu«lget, whicli he can utter too 
in fit time and place. He is [like] the vault'- in 



42 The chapel of the Virgin Mary, in the cathedral church of Glou- 
cester, was founded by Richard Stanley, abbot, in 1457, and finished 
by William Farley, a monk of the monasterj', in 1472. Sir Robert 
Atkyns gives the following description of the vault here alluded to. 
'■'■The 7vhLy)enng place is very remarkable ; it is a long alley, from 
one side of the choir to the other, built circular, that it might not 
darken the great east window of the choir. When a person whis- 
pers at one end of the alley, his voice is heard distinctly at the other 
end, though the passage be open in the middle, having large spaces 
for doors and windows on the east side. It may be imputed to the 
close cement of the wall, which makes it as one entire stone, and 
80 conveys the voice, as a long piece of timber does convey the least 
stroak to the other end. Others assign it to the repercussion of the 
voice from accidental angles." Atkym^ Ancient and Present State 
of Glostershire. Lond. 1712, folio, page 128. See also Fuller's 
Worthies, in Gloucestershire, page 351. 



36 MICROCOSMOGRAPIIY. 

Gloster cluirch, that conveys whispers at a distance, 
for he takes the sound out of your mouth at York, 
and makes it be heard as far as London. He is the 
young student's joy and expectation, and the most 
accepted guest, to whom they lend a willing hand to 
discharge liim of his burden. His first greeting is 
commonly, Your friends are well ; [and to j^i'ove 
i7]'^* in a piece of gold delivers their blessing. You 
would think him a churlish blunt fellow, but they 
find in him many tokens of humanity. He is a great 
afflicter of the high-ways, and beats them out of 
measure; which injury is sometimes revenged by 
the purse-taker, and then the voyage miscarries. 
No man domineers more in his inn, nor calls his 
ho.st unreverently with more presumption, and this 
arrogance proceeds out of the strength of his horses. 
He forgets not his lead where he takes his ease, for 
he is drunk commonly before he goes to bed. He 
is like the prodigal child, still packing away and still 
returning again. But let him pass. 



43 Then in ajneceof gold, etc. First edit. 



A YOUNG MAN. 37 

XVI. 

A YOUNG MAN; 

JjLe is now out of nature's protection, though not 
yet able to guide himself; but left loose to the world 
and fortune, from which the weakness of his child- 
hood preserved him; and now his strength exposes 
him. He is, indeed, just of age to be miserable, yet 
in his own conceit first begins to be happy; and 
he is happier in this imagination, and his misery not 
felt is less. He sees yet but the outside of the world 
and men, and conceives them, according to their ap- 
pearing, glister, and out of this ignorance believes 
them. He pursues all vanities for happiness, and^' [e/i- 
Joi/s them best in this fancy.'] His reason serves, not to 
curb but understand his appetite, and prosecute the 
motions thereof with a more eager earnestness. Him- 
self is his own temptation, and needs not Satan, 
and the world will come hereafter. He leaves re- 
pentance for grey hairs, and performs it in being 
covetous. He is mingled with the vices of the age 
as the fashion and custom, with which he longs to 
be acquainted, and sins to better his understanding. 



44 Whiht he has not yet got them, enjoys them. First edit. 



38 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

He conceives his youth as the season (jf his lust, 
and the hour wherein he ought to be bad -, and be- 
cause he would not lose his time, spends it. He 
distastes religion as a sad thing, and is six years 
elder for a thought of heaven. He scorns and fears, 
and yet hopes for old age, but dare not imagine it 
with wrinkles. He loves and hates with the same 
inflammation, and when the heat is over is cool 
alike to friends and enemies. His friendship is sel- 
dom so stedi'ast, but that lust, drink, or anger may 
overturn it. He offers you his blood to-day in kind- 
ness, and is ready to take yours to-morrow. He does 
seldom any thing which he wishes not to do again, 
and is only wise afiter a misfortune. He suffers much 
for his knowledge, and a great deal of folly it is makes 
him a wise man. He is free from many vices, by being 
not grown to the performance, and is only more vertu- 
ous out of weakness. Every action is his danger, 
and every man his ambush. He is a ship without 
pilot or tackling, and only good fortune may steer 
him. If he scape this age, he has scaped a tempest, 
and may live to be a man. 



AN OLD COLLEGE BUTLER. 39 

XVII. 

AX OLD COLLEGE BUTLER 

AS none of the worst students in the house, for he 
keeps the set hours at his book more duly than any. 
His authority is great over men's good names, which 
he charges many times with shrewd aspersions, which 
they hardly wipe off without payment. [His box 
and counters prove him to be a man of reckoning, 
yet] he is stricter in his accounts than a usurer, and 
delivers not a farthing without writing. He doubles 
the pains of Gallobelgicus,''' for his books go out 
once a quarter, and they are much in the same nature, 
brief notes and sums of affiiirs, and are out of re- 



45 Gallo-Belgicus was erroneously supposed, by the ingenious Mr. 
Reed, to be the ''first news-paper published in England ;" we are, 
however, assured by the author of the " Life of Ruddiman," that it 
has no title to so honourable a distinction. Gallo-Belgicus appears 
to have been rather &q Annual Register, or History of its otcn T'imes, 
than a newspaper. It was written in Latin, and eutitulcd, "Mer- 
cuRij Gallo-Belgici : sive, rerum in Gallia, et Belgio potissimxini : 
Hispania quoque, Italia, Anglia, Germania, Polonia, Vicinisqve locis 
ab anno 1588, ad Martium anni 1594, gestarvm, Nuncij." The first 
volume was printed in 8vo. at Cologne, 1508 ; Irom which year, to 
about 1G()5, it was published annually ; and Irom thence to the time 
of its conclusion, which is uncertain, it appeared in half-yearly vo- 
lumes. C/ialmers' Life of Euddiman^llQ-i. The great request in 
which newspapers were held at the publication of the present work, 
may be gathered from Burton, who, in his Anatomy of Melandioly, 
complains that "if any read now-a-days, it is a play-book, or a 
pamphlet of newes."' 



40 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

quest as soon. His comings in are like a taylor's, 
from the shreds of bread, [the] chippings and rem- 
nants of a broken crust ; excepting his vails from 
the barrel, which poor folks buy for their hogs but 
drink themselves. He divides an halfpenny loaf with 
more subtlety than Keckerman,^^ and sub-divides 
the d primo ortum so nicely, that a stomach of great 
capacity can hardly apprehend it. He is a very 
sober man, considering his manifold temptations of 
drink and strangers; and if he be overseen, ^tis 
within his own liberties, and no man ought to take 
exception. He is never so well pleased with his place 
as when a gentleman is beholden to him for shewing 
him the buttery, whom he greets with a cup of single 
beer and sliced manchet,*' and tells him it is the 



46 Bartholomew Keckerman was born at Dantzick, in Prussia, 
1571, and educated under Fnbricius. Being eminentlj^ distinguished 
for his abilities and application, he was, in 1597, requested, by 
the senate of Dantzick, to take upon him the management of their 
academy ; an honour he then declined, but accepted, on a second ap- 
plication, in 1601. Here he proposed to instruct his pupils in the com- 
plete science of philosophy in the short space of three years, and, 
for that purpose, drew up a great number of books upon logic, rhe- 
toric, ethics, politics^ physics, metaphysics, geography, astronomy, 
&c. &c. till, as it is said, literally worn out with scholastic drudgerj^ 
he died at the early age of 38. 

47 Of bread made of wheat we have sundrie sorts dailie brought to 
the table, whereof the first and most excellent is the mainchet, which 
we commonlie call white bread. Harrison, Description of England 
prefixed to^Holinshed, chap. 6. 



AN UPSTART COUNTRY KNIGHT. 41 

fashion of the college. He domineers over freshmen 
when they first come to the hatch, and puzzles them 
with strange language of cues and cees, and some 
broken Latin which he has learnt at his bin. His 
faculties extraordinary is the warming of a pair of 
cards, and telling out a dozen of counters for post and 
pair,^"* and no man is more methodical in these busi- 
nesses. Thus he spends his age till the tap of it is 
run out, and then a fresh one is set abroach. 

XVIII. 
AN UPSTART COUNTRY KNIGHT 

LXS a lioUday cloivn, and differs only in the stuff 
of his clothes, not the stuff of himself ,'\^'^ for he bare 
the king's sword before he had arms to wield it; 
yet being once laid o'er the shoulder with a knight- 
hood, he finds the herald his friend. His father was 
a man of good stock, though but a tanner or usurer; 
he purchased the land, and his son the title. He 



48 " Post and 2)air,'''' was a game at cards, of whicli I can give no 
description. The author of the Com^pleat Gamester notices it as " very 
much played in the West of England." See Dodsley's Old Plays, 
1780. vii. 296. 

49 His hoiwur was somewhat preposterous^ for he bare, etc. First 
edit. 

6 



42 MICROCOSMOGRAPIIY. 

has doffed off the name of a [romitn/ jWow,^^'^ but 
the look not so easy, and his face still bears a relish 
of churne-milk. He is guarded ^vith more gold lace"^^ 
than all the gentlemen of the country, yet his body 
makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house- 
keeping is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, 
and serving-men attendant on their kennels, and the 
deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. 
A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility, ''-^ 



50 Clown. First edit. 

51 " Guarded with more gold lace. " Tlie word guarded is con- 
tinually used by the writers of the sixteenth century iov fringed or 
adorned. See Reed's Slialcipeare, vii. 272. Old Plai/s, iv. m. 

52 The art of hawking; has been no frequently and so fully explained, 
that it would be superrtuous, if not arr()<i;aiit, to trace its progress, or 
delineate its history, in this place. In the earliest periods it appears 
to have been exclusively practised by the nobility ; and. indeed, 
the great expense at which the amusement was supported, seems to 
have been a sufficient reason for deterring persons of more moderate 
income, and of inferior rank, from indulging in the i)ursuit. In the 
Sports and Pastimes of Mr. Strutt, a variety of instances are given 
of the importance attached to the olhce of falconer, and of the im- 
mense value of, and high estimation the birds themselves were held 
in from the commencement of the Norman government, down to the 
reign of James I. in which sir Thomas Monson gave 1000/. for a cast 
of hawks, which consisted of only (wo. 

The great increase of wealth, and the consequent equalization of 
propei'ty in this countrj^ about the reign of Elizabeth, induced many 
of inferior birth to practise the amusements of their superiors, which 
they did without regard to expense, or indeed propriety. Sir Thomas 
Elyot, in his Governour (1580), complains that tlie falkons of his day 
consumed so much poultry, that, in a few years, he feared there 
would be a great scarcity of it. "I speake not this," says he, " in 



AN UPSTART COUNTRY KNIGHT. 43 

and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the 
sport, and have his fist gloved with hisjesses/^^ A 
justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and 
do his neighbour wrong with more right.-^^ He 
will be drunk with his hunters for company, and 
stain his gentility with droppings of ale. He is 
fearful of being sherifi" of the shire by instinct, 
and dreads the assize-week as much as the prisoner. 
In sum, he's but a clod of his own earth, or his land 
is the dunghill and he the cock that crows over it : 
and commonly his race is quickly run, and his cliild- 
ren's children, though they scape hanging, return 
to the place from whence they came. 



disprayee of the faukons. but of them which keepeth them lyke 
cockneyes.'" A reproof, there can be no doubt, applicable to the 
character iu the text. 

5.3 A term in hawking, signifying the short straps of leather which 
are fastened to the hawk's legs, by which she is held on the fist, or 
joined to the leash. They were sometimes made of silk, as appears 
from •; The Boke ofhaickynge, huntyngi\ andfysshijnge, with all the 
])ropert]/es and medecynes that are necessarye to be kepte : '• Hawkes 
haue aboute theyr legges gesaes made of lether most comonly, 
some of sylke, which shuld be no longer but that the knottes of them 
shulde appeare in the myddes of the lefte hande." &c. Juliana 
Barnes, edit. 4to. Jmpryntedat LondoninPoulschyrchyardebyme 
Hery Tab:' sig. C. 11. 

.54 This authority of his is that dub ichich keeps Ihem under a^ 
his dogs hereafter. First edit. 



44 MICROCOSMOGLRAPHY. 

XIX. 

AN IDLE GALLANT 

As one that was born and shaped for his cloaths ; 
and, if Adam had not fallen, had lived to no pur- 
pose. He gratulates therefore the first sin, and fig- 
leaves that were an occasion of [his] bravery. His 
first care is his dress, the next his body, and in the 
uniting of these two lies his soul and its faculties. 
He observes London trulier then the terms, and his 
business is the street, the stage, the court, and those 
places where a proper man is best shown. If he be 
qualified in gaming extraordinary, he is so much the 
more genteel and compleat, and he learns the best 
oaths for the purpose. These are a great part of 
his discourse, and he is as curious in their newness 
as the fashion. His other talk is ladies and such 
pretty things, or some jest at a play. His pick- 
tooth bears a great part in his discourse, so does his 
body, the upper parts whereof are as starched as his 
linnen, and perchance use the same laundress. '^ He 
has learnt to ruffle his face from his boot, and takes 
great delight in his walk to hear his spurs gingle. 
Though his life pass somewhat slidingly, yet he 



AN IDLE GALLANT. 45 

seems very careful of the time, for he is still drawing 
his watch out of his pocket, and spends part of his 
hours in numbring them. He is one never serious 
but with his taylor, when he is in conspiracy for the 
next device. He is furnished with his jests, as some 
wanderer with sermons, some three for all congrega- 
tions, one especially against the scholar, a man to 
him much ridiculous, whom he knows by no other 
definition, but a silly fellow in black. He is a kind 
of walking mercer's shop, and shews you one stuflf 
to-day and another to-morrow ; an ornament to the 
room he comes in as the fair bed and hangings be ; 
and is meerly ratable accordingly, fifty or an hundred 
pounds as his suit is. His main ambition is to get 
a knight-hood, and then an old lady, which if he be 
happy in, he fills the stage and a coach so much 
longer : Otherwise, himself and his cloaths grow stale 
together, and he is buried commonly ere he dies ia 
the gaol, or the country. 



46 MICROCOSMOaRAPlIY. 

XX. 

A CONSTABLE 

XS a vice-roy in the street, and no man stands more 
iipon't thatlie is the king's oflBcer. Hisjurisdiction 
extends to the next stocks, where he has commission 
for the heels only, and sets the rest of the body at 
liberty. lie is a scare-crow to that ale-house, where 
he drinks not his morning draught, and apprehends 
a drunkard for not standing in the king's name. 
Beggars fear him more than the justice, and as much 
as the whip-stock, whom he delivers over to his subor- 
dinate magistrates, the bridewell-man, and the beadle. 
He is a great stickler in the tumults of double jugs, 
and ventures his head by his place, which is broke 
many times to keep whole the peace. He is never 
so much in his majesty as in his night-watch, where 
he sits in his chair of state, a shop-stall, and invi- 
roned with a guard of halbcrts, examines all passengers. 
He is a very careful man in his ofl&ce, but if he stay 
up after midnight you shall take him napping. 



A DOWN-RIGHT SCHOLAR. 47 

XXI. 

A DOWN- RIGHT SCHOLAR 

XS one that has much learning iu the ore, imwrought 
and untried, which time and experience fashions and 
refines. He is good metal in the inside, though 
rough and unscoured without, and therefore hated 
of the courtier, that is quite contrary. The time 
has got a vein of making him ridiculous, and men 
laugh at him by tradition, and no unlucky absurdity 
but is put upon his profession, and done like a scho- 
lar. But his fault is only this, that his mind is 
[somewhat] too much taken up with h's mind, and 
his thoughts not loaden with any carriage besides. 
He has not put on the quaint garb of the age, which 
is now a man's \_Imprimis and all the ItemS^^^~\ He 
has not humbled his meditations to the industry of 
complement, nor afflicted his brain in an elaborate 
leg. His body is not set upon nice pins, to be turning 
and flexible for every motion, but his scrape is homely 
and his nod worse. He cannot kiss his hand and 
cry, madam, nor talk idle enough to bear her company. 
His smackino'of a gentlew^oman is somewhat too sa- 



55 Now become a mail's total. First edit. 



48 MICROCOSMOaRAPHY. 

vory, and he mistakes her nose for her lips. A very 
woodcock would puzzle him in carving, and he wants 
the logick of a capon. He has not the glib faculty 
of sliding over a tale, buthis words come squeamishly 
out of his mouth, and the laughter commonly 
before the jest. He names this word college too 
often, and his discourse beats too much on the univer- 
sity. The perplexity of mannerliness will not let 
him feed, and he is sharp set at an argument when 
he should cut his meat. He is discarded for a 
gamester at all games but one and thirty,-^" and at 
tables he reaches not beyond doublets. His fingers 
are not long and drawn out to handle a fiddle, but 
his fist clunched with the habit of disputing. He 
ascends a horse somewhat sinisterly, though not on 
the left side, and they both go jogging in grief to- 
gether. He is exceedingly censured by the inns-of- 
court men, for that heinous vice being out of fashion. 
He cannot speak to a dog in his own dialect, and 
understands Greek better than the language of a fal- 



se Of the game called one and thirty, I am unable to find any men- 
tion in Mr, Strutt's 8j)orts and Pastimes, nor is it alluded to in any 
of the old plays or tracts I have yet met with. A very satisfactory 
account of tables may he read in the interesting and valuable pub- 
lication just noticed. 



A PLAIN COUNTRY FELLOW. 49 

coner. He has been used to a dark room, and dark 
cloatlis, and his eyes dazzle at a sattin suit. The her- 
mitage of his study, has made him somewhat uncouth 
in the world, and men make him worse by staring 
on him. Thus is he [silly and] ridiculous, and it 
continues with him for some quarter of a year out 
of the university. But practise him a little in men, 
and brush him over with good company, and he 
shall out-ballance those glisterers, as far as a solid 
substance does a feather, or gold, gold-lace. 



XXII. 
A PLAIN COUNTRY FELLOW 

AS one that manures his ground well, but lets him- 
self lye fallow and untilled. He has reason enough 
to do his business, and not enough to be idle or me- 
lancholy. He seems to have the punishment of 
Nebuchadnezzar^ for his conversation is among beasts, 
and his tallons none of the shortest, only he eats not 
grass, because he loves not sallets. His hand guides 
the plough, and the plough his thoughts, and his 
ditch and land-mark is the very mound of his 
meditations. He expostulates with his oxen very 
7 



50 MICROCOSMOGRAPHr. 

understandingly, and speaks gee, and ree, better than 
English. His mind is not much distracted with 
objects, but if a good fat cow come in his way, he 
stands dumb and astonished, and though his haste be 
never so great, will fix here half an hour's contem- 
plation. His habitation is some poor thatched roof, 
distinguished from his barn by the loop-holes that 
let outsmoak, which the rain had long since washed 
through, but for the double ceiling of bacon on the 
insicle, which has hung there from his graudsire's 
time, and is yet to make rashers for posterity. His 
dinner is his other work, for he sweats at it as much 
as at his labour; he is a terrible fastner on a piece 
of beef, and you may hope to stave the guard ofi" 
sooner. His religion is a part of his copy-hold, 
which he takes from his land-lord, and refers it 
wholly to his discretion : Yet if he give him leave 
he is a good Christian to his power, (that is,) comes 
to church in his best cloaths, and and sits there with 
his neighbours, where he is capable only of two 
prayers, for rain, and fair weather. He apprehends 
God's blessings only in a good year, or a fat pasture, 
and never praises him but on good ground. Sunday 
he esteems a day to make merry in, and thinks a 



A PLAIN COUNTRY FELLOW, 51 

bagpipe as essential to it as evening-prayer, where 
lie walks very solemnly after service with his hands 
coupled behind him, and censures the dancing of his 
parish. [His compliment with his neighbour is a 
good thump on the back, and his salutation commonly 
some blunt curse.] He thinks nothing to be vices, 
but pride and ill husbandry, from which he will 
gravely dissuade the youth, and has some thrifty 
hob-nail proverbs to clout his discourse.-^ '^ He is a 
niggard all the week, except only market-day, where, 
if his corn sell well, he thinks he may be drunk 
with a good conscience. His feet never stink so un- 
becomingly as when he trots after a lawyer in AYest- 
minster-hall, and even cleaves the ground with hard 
scraping in beseeching his worship to take his money. 
He is sensible of no calamity but the burning a stack 
of corn or the overflowing of a meadow, and thinks 
Noah's flood the greatest plague that ever was, not 
because it drowned the world, but spoiled the grass. 
For death he is never troubled, and if he get in but 
his harvest before, let it come when it will, he cares 
not. 



57 "doM^." Shakspeare {Cymbeline, activ. scene 2.) "ses the expres- 
sion of clouted brogues, which Mr. Steevens explains to be"shoeg 
strengthened withclout or /io6-nails." 



52 MICROCOSxMOGRAPHY. 

XXIII. 

A FLAYER. 

JlLE knows the right use of the world, wherein he 
comes to phiy a part and so away. His life is not 
idle, for it is all action, and no man need be more 
wary in his doings, for the eyes of all men are upon 
him. His profession has in it a kind of contradiction, 
for none is more disliked, and yet none more ap- 
plauded ; and he has the misfortune of some scholar, 
too much wit makes him a fool. He is like our 
painting gentlewomen, seldom in his own face, sel- 
domer in his cloaths ; and he pleases, the better he 
counterfeits, except only when he is disguised with 
straw for gold lace. He does not only personate on 
the stage, but sometimes in the street, for he is 
masked still in the habit of a gentleman. His parts 
find him oaths and good words, which he keeps for 
his use and discourse, and makes shew with them of 
a fashionable companion. He is tragical on the stage, 
but rampant in the tiring-house,-^^ and swears oaths 
there which he never conned. The waiting women 



58 The room where the performers dress, previous to coming on 
the stage. 



A PLAYER. 53 

spectators are over-ears in love witli him, and ladies 
send for him to act in their chambers. Your inns- 
of-court men were undone but for him, he is their 
chief guest and employment, and the sole business 
that makes them afternoon's-men. The poet only is 
his tyrant, and he is bound to make his friend's 
friend drunk at his charge. Shrove-Tuesday he 
fears as much as the bauds, -^^ and Lenf'O is more 
damage to him than the butcher. He was never so 
much discredited as in one act, and that was of 
parliament, which gives hostlers priviledge before 
him, for which he abhors it more than a corrupt 
judge. But to give him his due, one well-furnished 



59 So Sir Thomas Overbury. "Nothing * * daunts her so 
mucli as the approach of Shrove Tuesday.''''— Characiers. 

" It was lormerly a custom for the peace officers to make search after 
women of ill fame on that day, aud to confine them during the season 
of Lent."— Note to The Honest Whore, Dodslei/s Old Plays, III. 461. 

" The punishment of people of evil fame at this season seems to 
have been one of the chief sports of the apprentices." — Brand'' s 
Popidar Antiquities, I, 90. L. 

60 This passage affords a proof of what has been doubted, namely, 
that the theatres were not permitted to be open during Lent, in the 
reign of James I. The restriction was waved in the next reign, as 
we find from the puritanical Prj-nne :—" There are none so much 
addicted to stage-playes, but Avhen they goe unto places where they 
cannot have them, or when, as they arc suppressed by publike 
authority, (as in times of pestilence, and in Lent, till iioiv of late), 
can well subsist without them." «&c. Eistrio-Mastix, 4to. Lond. 1633. 
page 3S1. 



54 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

actor has enough in him for five common gentlemen, 
and, if he have a good body, [for six, and] for resolu- 
tion he shall challenge any Cato, for it has been his 
practice to die bravely. 



XXIV. 
A DETRACTOR 

As one of a more cunning and active envy, wherewith 
he gnaws not foolishly himself, but throws it abroad 
and would have it blister others. He is commonly 
some weak parted fellow, and worse minded, yet is 
strangely ambitious to match others, not by mounting 
their worth, but bringing them down with his tongue 
to his own poorness. He is indeed like the red 
dragon that pursued the woman, '^i for when he can- 
not over-reach another, he opens his mouth and 
throws a flood after to drown him. You cannot 
anger him worse than to do well, and he hates you 
more bitterly for this, than if you had cheated him 
of his patrimony with your own discredit. He is 
always slighting the general opinion, and wonder- 



Ql '■' dragon that lyursued the woman.'''' Evidently an allusion to 
Eevelations, xii. 15. 



A DETRACTOR 55 

ing why such and such men should be applauded. 
Commend a good divine, he cries postilling; aphilo- 
loger, pedantry ; a poet, rhiming ; a school-man, dull 
wrangling ; a sharp conceit, boyishness ; an honest 
man, plausibility. He comes to publick things not 
to learn, but to catch, and if there be butonesoloecism, 
that is all he carries away. He looks on all things 
with a prepared sowerness, and is still furnished with 
a pish beforehand, or some musty proverb that 
disrelishes all things whatsoever. If fear of the 
company make him second a commendation, it is 
like a law-writ, always with a clause of exception, 
or to smooth his way to some greater scandal. He will 
grant you something, and bate more; and this bating 
shall in conclusion take away all he granted. His 
speech concludes still with an Oh ! but,— and I could 
wish one thing amended; and this one thing shall 
be enough to deface all his former commendations. 
He will be very inward with a man to fish some bad 
out of him, and make his slanders hereafter more 
anthentick, when it is said a friend rejDorted it. He 
will inveigle you to naughtiness to get your good 
name into his clutches; he will be your pandar to 
have you on the hip for a whore-master, and make 



56 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

you drunk to shew you reeling. He passes the more 
plausibly because all men have a smatch of his 
humour, and it is thought freeness which is malice. If 
he can say nothing of a man, he will seem to speak 
riddles, as if he could tell strange stories if he would; 
and when he has racked his invention to the utmost, 
he ends; — but I wish him well, and therefore must 
hold my peace. He is always listening and enquiring 
after men, and suffers not a cloak to pass by him 
unexamined. In brief, he is one that has lost all 
good himself, and is loth to find it in another. 

XXV. 

A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF THE UNIVERSITY 

JLS one that comes there to wear a gown, and to say 
hereafter, he has been at the university. His father 
sent him thither because he heard there were the 
best fencing and dancing-schools; from these he has 
his education, from his tutor the over-sight. The 
first element of his knowledge is to be shewn the 
colleges, and initiated in a tavern by the way, which 
hereafter he will learn of himself. The two 
marks of his seniority, is the bare velvet of his 



A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF THE UNIVERSITY. 57 

gown, and bis proficiency at tennis, where when he 
can once play a set, he is a fresh man no more. His 
study has commonly handsome shelves, his books 
neat silk strings, which he shews to his father's man, 
and is loth to unty^~ or take down for fear of 
misplacing. Upon foul days for recreation he retires 
thither, and looks over the pretty book his tutor reads 
to him, which is commonly some short history, or a 
piece of Euphormio ; for which his tutor gives him 
money to spend next day. His main loytering is at 
the library, where he studies arms and books of 
honour, and turns a gentleman critick in pedigrees. 
Of all things he endures not to be mistaken for a 
scholar, and hates a black suit though it be made 
of sattin. His companion is ordinarily some stale 
fellow, that has been notorious for an ingle to gold 
hatbands, f''^ whom he admires at first, afterward 



62 It may not be known to those who are not accustomed to meet 
with old books in their original bindings, or of seeing publiclibraries 
of antiquity, that the volumes were formerly placed on the shelves 
with the leaves^ not the brxk in front ; and that the two sides of the 
binding were joined together with neat silk or other strings, and, in 
some instances, where the books were of greater value and curiosity 
than common, even fastened with gold or silver chains. 

63 A hanger-on to noblemen, who are distinguished at the univer- 
Bily by gold tassels to their caps ; or in the language of the present 
day, a tuft-hunter. 

8 



58 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

scorns. If he have spirit or wit he may light of 
better company, and may learn some flashes of wit, 
which may do him knight's service in the 
country hereafter. But he is now gone to the inns- 
of-court, where he studies to forget what he learned 
before, his acquaintance and the fashion. 

XXVI. 
A WEAK MAN 

JLS a child at man's estate, one whom nature hud- 
dled up in haste, and left his best part unfinished. 
The rest of him is grown to be a man, only his brain 
stays behind. He is one that has not improved his 
first rudiments, nor attained any proficiency by his 
stay in the world : but we may speak of him yet as 
when he was in the bud, a good harmless nature, a 
well meaning mind'^^ \_cnid no mure.'] It is his misery 
that he now wants a tutor, and is too old to have one. 
He is two steps above a fool, and a great many more 
below a wise man: yet the fool is oft given him, and 
by those whom he esteems most. Some tokens of 
him are, — he loves men better upon relation than 



^If he could order his intentions. First edit. 



A WEAK MAN. 59 

experience, for he is exceedingly enamoured of 
strangers, and none quicklier a weary of his friend. 
He charges you at first meeting with all his secrets, 
and on better acquaintance grows more reserved. 
Indeed he is one that mistakes much his abusers for 
friends, and his friends for enemies, and he appre- 
hends your hate in nothing so much as in good 
council. One that is flexible with any thing but 
reason, and then only perverse. [A servant to 
every tale and flatterer, and whom the last man still 
works over.] A great aff"ecter of wits and such 
prettinesses; and his company is costly to him, for 
he seldom has it but invited. His friendship com- 
monly is begun in a supper, and lost in lending 
money. The tavern is a dangerous place to him, for 
to drink aud be drunk is with him all one, and his 
brain is sooner quenched than his thirst. He is 
drawn into naughtiness with company, but suffers 
alone, and the bastard commonly laid to his charge. 
,pne that will be patiently abused, and take exception 
a month after when he understands it, and then be 
abused again into a reconcilement; and you cannot 
endear him more than by cozening him, and it is a 
temptation to those that would not. One discoverable 



60 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

in all silliness to all men but himself, and you may- 
take any man's knowledge of liini better than his 
own. He will promise the same thing to twenty, 
and rather than deny one break with all. One that 
has no power over himself, over his business, over 
his friends, but a prey and pity to all; and if his 
fortunes once sink, men quickly cry, Alas! — and 
forget him. 

XXVII. 

A TOBACCO-SELLER 

XS the only man that finds good in it which others 
brag of but do not ; for it is meat, drink, and clothes 
to him. No man opens his ware with greater serious- 
ness, or challenges your judgment more in the ap- 
probation. His shop is the rendezvous of spitting, 
where men dialogue with their noses, and their com- 
munication is smoak.^5 It is the place only where 
Spain is commended and preferred before England 
itself. He should be well experienced in the world, 
for he has daily trial of men's nostrils, and none is 
better acquainted with humours. He is the piecing 



65 Minshew calls a tdb&ccomst fumi-vendvlus, a smoak-seller. 



A POT-POET. 61 

commonly of some other trade, whicli is bawd to 
his tobacco, and that to his wife, which is the flame 
that follows this smoak. 

XXVIII. 

A POT-POET 
is the dregs of wit, yet mingled with good drink 
may have some relish. His inspirations are more 
real than others, for they do but feign a God, but 
he has his by him. His verse runs like the tap, and 
his invention as the barrel,- ebbs and flows at the 
mercy of the spiggot. In thin drink he aspires not 
above a ballad, but a cup of sack inflames him, and 
sets his muse and nose a-fire together. The press is 
his mint, and stamps him now and then a six-pence or 
two in reward of the baser coin his pamphlet. His 
works would scarce sell for three half-pence, though 
they are given oft for three shillings, but for the pretty 
title that allures the country gentleman; for which 
the printer maintains him in ale a fortnight. His 
verses are like his clothes miserable centoes''^' and 



66 Cento, a composition formed bj' joining scraps from other authors. 
Johnson. Cnmden, in his liemains, uses it in the tame sense. 
"It is quilted as it were, out of shreds of divers poets, such as 
scholars call a cento.'''' 



62 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

patches, yet their pace is not altogether so hobbling 
as an almanack's. The death of a great man or the 
burninr/''' of a house furnish him with an argument, 
and the niue muses are out strait in mourning gowns, 
and Melpomene cries fire! fire! [His other poems 
are but briefs in rhime, and like the poor Grreeks 
collections to redeem from captivity.] He is a man 
now much employed in commendations of our navy, 
and a bitter inveigher against the Spaniard. His 
frequentest works go out in single sheets, and are 
chanted from market to market to a vile tune and a 
worse throat; whilst the poor country wench melts 
like her butter to hear them. And these are the 
stories of some men of Tyburn, orastrange monster 
out of Germany;*'^ or, sitting in a bawdy-house, he 



67 Firing. PitBt edit. 

68 In the hope of discovering some account of the strange, monster 
alluded to, I have looked through one of the largest and most 
curious collections of tracts, relating to the marvellous, perhaps in 
existence. That bequeathed to the Bodleian, by Robert Burton, the 
author of the Anato?ny of Melancholy. Hitherto my researches have 
been unattended with success, as I have found only two tracts of 
this description relating to Germany, both of which are in prose, 
and neither giving any account of a monster. 

1. A most true Relation of a very dreadfull EarthquaTce, with the 
lamentable Effectes thereof, lohich began upon the 8 of December 1612. 
and yet continueth most fearefull in Munster in Germanic. Reade 
and Tremble. Translated out of Dutch, by Charles Demetrius, Publike 
Notarie in London, and printed at Rotterdame, in Holland, at the 



A PLAUSIBLE MAN. 63 

writes God's judgments. He drops away at last in 
some obscure painted cloth, to which himself made 
the verses, 6^ and his life, like a cann too full, spills 
upon the bench. He leaves twenty shillings on the 
score, which my hostess loses. 

XXIX. 

A FLA USIBLE MAN 

JLS one that would fain run an even path in the 
world, and jut against no man. His endeavour is 
not to offend, and his aim the general opinion. His 
conversation is a kind of continued compliment, 
and his life a practice of manners. The relation he 
bears to others, a kind of fashionable respect, not 
friendship but friendliness, which is equal to all 



Signe of the White Gray-lwund. (Date cut off. Twenty-six pages, 
4to. with a wood-cut.) 

2. Miraculous Newes from the Cittie of Holt, in the Lordship of 
Munster, in Gei^iany, the twentieth of September last 2)ast, 1616. 
where there were plainly beheld three dead bodyes rise out their Graues 
admonishing the people of ludgements to come. Faithfully trans- 
lated {&c. &c.) London, Printed for John Barnes, dioelling in Ilosie 
Lane neere Smithfleld, 1616. (4to. twenty pages, wood-cut ) 

69 It was customary to work or paint proverbs, moral sentences, or 
scraps of verse, on old tapestry hangings, which were c&WeA painted 
cloths. Several allusions to this practice may be found in the works 
of our early English dramatists. See Reed's Shakspeare, viii. 103. 



64 MICROCOSMOGRAPPIY. 

and general, and his kindnesses seldom exceed courte- 
sies. He loves not deeper mutualities, because he 
would not take sides, nor hazard himself on. dis- 
pleasures, which he principally avoids. At your 
first acquaintance with him he is exceeding kind and 
friendly, and at your twentieth meeting after but 
friendly still. He has an excellent command over 
his patience and tongue, especially the last, which 
he accommodates always to the times and persons, 
and speaks seldom what is sincere, but what is civil. 
He is one that uses all companies, drinks all healths, 
and is reasonable cool in all religions. [He considers 
who are friends to the company, and speaks weM 
where he is sure to hear of it again.] He can listen 
to a foolish discourse with an applausive attentio'n, and 
conceal his laughter at nonsense. Silly men much 
honour and esteem him, because by his f\iir reason- 
ing with them as with men of understanding, he 
puts them into an erroneous opinion of themselves, 
and makes them forwarder hereafter to their own 
discovery. He is one rather well ^^ thought on than 
beloved, and that love he has is more of whole com- 
panies together than any one in particular. Men 



70 Better. First edit. 



A BOWL-ALLEY. 66 

gratify him notwithstanding with a good report, and 
whatever vices he has besides, yethaving no enemies 
he is sure to be an honest fellow. 



XXX. 

A BOWL- ALLEY 

JLS the place where there are three things thrown 
away beside bowls, to wit, time, money, and curses, 
and the last ten for one. The best sport in it is the 
gamesters, and he enjoys it that looks on and bets 
not. It is the school of wrangling, and worse than 
the schools, for men will cavil here for a hair's breadth 
and make a stir where a straw would end the con- 
troversy. No antick screws men's bodies into such 
strange flexures, and you would think them here 
senseless, to speak sense to their bowl, and put their 
trust in intreaties for a good cast. The betters are the 
factious noise of the alley, or the gamesters beadsmen 
that pray for them. They are somewhat like those 
that are cheated by great men, for they lose their 
money and must say nothing. It is the best discovery 
of humours, especially in the losers, where you have 
9 



66 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

fine variety of impatience, whilst some fret, some 
rail, some swear, and others more ridiculously com- 
fort themselves with philosophy. To give you the 
moral of it; it is the emblem of the world, or the 
world's ambition; where most are short, or over, or 
wide or wrong-biassed, and some few justle in to the 
mistress fortune. And it is here as in the court, 
where the nearest are most spited, and all blows 
aimed at the toucher. 



XXXI. 
THE WORLD'S WISE MAN 

JLS an able and sufficient wicked man : It is a proof 
of his sufiiciency that he is not callexi wicked, but 
wise. A man wholly determined in himself and 
his own. ends, and his instruments herein any thing 
that will do it. His friends are a part of his en- 
gines, and as they serve to his works, used or laid 
by: Indeed he knows not this thing of friend, but 
if he give you the name, it is a sign he has a plot 
on you. Never more active in his businesses, than 
when they are mixed with some harm to others; 
and it is his best play in this game to strike off and 



THE world's wise MAN. 67 

lie in the place : Successful commonly in tliese un- 
dertakings, because he passes smoothly those rubs 
which others stumble at, as conscience and the 
like ; and gratulates himself much in this advantage. 
Oaths and falshood he counts the nearest way, and 
loves not by any means to go about. He has many 
fine quips at this folly of plain dealing, but his 
" tush ! " is greatest at religion ; yet he uses this 
too, and virtue and good words, but is less danger- 
ously a devil than a saint. He ascribes all honesty to 
an unpractisedness in the world, and conscience a 
thing merely for children. He scorns all that are 
so silly to trust '^ him, and only not scorns his enemy, 
especially if as bad as himself: he fears him as a 
man well armed and provided, but sets boldly on 
good natures, as the most vanquishable. One that 
seriously admires those worst princes, as Sforza, 
Borgia, and Richard the third; and calls matters of 
deep villany things of difficulty. To whom mur- 
ders are but resolute acts, and treason a business of 
great consequence. One whom two or three coun- 
tries make up to this compleatness, and he has 
travelled for the purpose. His deepest indearment 



n Hate. First edit. 



68 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

is a communication of mischief, and then only you 
have him fast. His conclusion is commonly one of 
these two, either a great man, or hanged. 



i^XXII. 
A SURGEON 

is one that has some business about this building 
or little house of man, whereof nature is as it were 
the tiler, and he the plaisterer. It is ofter out of 
reparations than an old parsonage, and then he is 
set on work to patch it again. He deals most with 
broken commodities, as a broken head or a mangled 
face, and his gains are very ill got, for he lives by 
the hurts of the commonwealth. He differs from a 
physician as a sore does from a disease, or the sick 
from those that are not whole, the one distempers 
you within, the other blisters you without. He 
complains of the decay of valour in these days, 
and sighs for that slashing age of sword and buckler; 
and thinks the law against duels was made meerly 
to wound his vocation. Pie had been long since 
undone if the charity of the stews had not relieved 
him, from whom he has his tribute as duly as the 



A SURGEON. 69 

pope; or a wind-fall sometimes from a tavern, if a 
quart pot hit right. The rareness of his custom 
makes him pitiless when it comes, and he holds a 
patient longer than our [spiritual] courts a cause. 
He tells you what danger you had been in if he 
had staid but a minute longer, and though it be but 
a pricked finger, he makes of it much matter. He 
is a reasonable cleanly man, considering the scabs 
he has to deal with, and your finest ladies are now 
and then beholden to him for their best dressings. 
He curses old gentlewomen and their charity that 
makes his trade their alms; but his envy is never 
stirred so much as when gentlemen go over to fight 
upon Calais sands, ''■- whom he wishes drowned e'er 
they come there, rather than the French shall get 
his custom. 



72 Calais sands were chosen by English duellists to decide their 
quarrels on, as being out of the jurisdiction of the law. This custom 
is noticed in an epigram written about the period in which this book 
first appeared. 

" When boasting Bembus challeng'd is to fight, 
He seemes at first a very Diuell in sight : 
Till more aduizde, will not defile [his] hands, 
Vnlesse you meete him vpon Callice sands" 
The Mastive or Young Whelpe of the olde Bog. Epigrams and Satyrs. 
4to. Land. {Printed^ as Warton supposes^ about 1600.) 
A passage in The Beau''s Duel : or a Soldier for the Ladies^ a comedy, 



70 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

XXXIII. 
A CONTEMPLATIVE MAN 

XS a scholar in this great university the world ] and 
the same his book and study. He cloysters not his 
meditations in the narrow darkness of a room, but 
sends them abroad with his eyes, and his brain travels 
with his feet. He looks upon man from a high 
tower, and sees him trulier at this distance in his 
infirmities and poorness. He scorns to mix himself 
in men's actions, as he would to act upon a stage; 
but sits aloft on the ycafi"old a censuring spectator. 
[He will not lose his time by being busy, or make so 
poor a use of the world as to hug and embrace it.] 
Nature admits him as a partaker of her sports, and 
asks his approbation as it were of her own works 
and variety. He comes not in company, because he 
would not be solitary, but finds discourse enough 
with himself, and his own thoughts are his excellent 



by Mrs. Centlivre, 4to. 1707, proves, that it existed so late as at tliat 
day. " Your only way is to ?eud him word you'll meet him on Calais 
sands ; duelling is unsafe in England lor men of estates," «fcc. See 
also other instances in Dodsley's Old Flays, edit. 1780. vii. 218.— 
xii. 412. 



A SHE PRECISE HYPOCRITE. 71 

play-fellows. He looks not upon a thing as a yawning 
stranger at novelties, but his search is more mysterious 
and inward, and he spells heaven out of earth. He 
knits his observations together and makes a ladder of 
them all to climb to God. He is free from vice, be- 
cause he has no occasion to imploy^ it, and is above 
those ends that make man wicked. He has learnt 
all can here be taught him, and comes now to heaven to 
see more. 



XXXIV. 

A SITE PRECISE HYPOCRITE 

XS one in whom good women suffer, and have their 
truth misinterpreted by her folly. She is one, she 
knows not what her self if you ask her, but she is 
indeed one that has taken a toy at the fashion of 
religion, and is enamoured of the new fangle. She 
is a nonconformist in a close stomacher and ruff of 
Geneva print,*-' and her purity consists much in her 



73 Strict devotees were, I believe, noted for the smallness and 
precision of their mffs, which were termed inx>rint from the exact- 
ness of the folds. So in Mynshul's Essays, 4to. 1G18. " I vndertooke 
a warre Avhen I aduentured to speak in jrnnt, (not in ])rlnt as Pur i- 
tafi's ruffes are set.)" The term of Geneva lyrint probably arose 
from the minuteness of the tj'pe used at Geneva. In the Merry Devil 



72 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

linnen. She has heard of the rag of Rome, and 
thinks it is a very sluttish religion, and rails at the 
whore of Babylon for a very naughty woman. She 
has left her virginity as a relick of popery, and mar- 
ries in her tribe without a ring. Her devotion at 
the church is much in the turning up of her eye; 
and turning down the leaf in her book, when she 
hears named chapter and verse. AVhen she comes 
home, she commends the sernjon for the scripture, 
and two hours. She loves preaching better than 
praying, and of preachers, lecturers; and thinks the 
week day's exercise far more edifying than the Sun- 
day's. Her oftest gossipings are sabbath-day's 
journeys, where, (though an enemy to superstition,) 
she will go in pilgrimage five mile to a silenced 
minister, when there is a better sermon in her own 
parish. She doubts of the virgin Mary's salvation. 



of Edmonton^ a comedy, 4to. 1608, is an expression which goes 
some way to prove the correctness of this supposition : — "I see by 
thy eyes thou hast bin reading little Genena jyriixt ; "—and, WiSiX. small 
niffs were worn by the puritanical set, an instance appears in Mayne's 
City Match, a comedy, 4to. 1658. 

-^ — • " O miracle! 

Out of your little ruffe, Dorcas, and in the fashion ! 

Dost thou hope to be saved ? " 
From these three extracts it is, I think, clear that a ruff of Geneva 
^riHi! meant a small, closely folded ruff, which was the distinction of 
a non-conformist. 



A SHE PRECISE HYPOCRITE. 73 

and dares not saint her, but knows her own place in 
heaven.as perfectly as the pew she has a key to. 
She is so taken up with faith she has no room for charity, 
and understands no good works but what are wrought 
on the sampler. She accounts nothing vices but su- 
perstition and an oath, and thinks adultery a less sin 
than to swear hy my truly. She rails at other 
women by the names of Jezebel and Dalilah; and 
calls her own daughters Rebecca and Abigail, and 
not Ann but Hannah. She suffers them not to 
learn on the virginals,'^ because of their affinity 
with organs, but is reconciled to the bells for the 
chimes sake, since they were reformed to the tune 
of a psalm. She overflows so with the bible, that 
she spills it upon every occasion, and will not 
cudgel her maids without scripture. It is a question 
whether she is more troubled with the Devil, or the 
Devil with her: She is always challenging and 
daring him, and her weapon [is The Practice of Pie- 
ty.''^''] Nothing angers her so much as that women 



74 A virginal, says Mr. Malone, was strung like a spinnet and 
shaped like a piano-forte : the mode of playing on this instrument 
was therefore similar to that of the organ. 

75 Weapons are spells no less potent than different^ as being the sage 
sentences of some of her own sectai^ies. First edit. 

10 



74 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

cannot preach, and in this point only thinks the 
Brownist erroneous ; but what she cannot at th^church 
she does at the table, where she prattles more than any 
against sense and Antichrist, 'till a capon's wing 
silence her. She expounds the priests of Baal, read- 
ing ministers, and thinks the sanation of that parish 
as desperate as the Turks. She is a main derider 
to her capacity of those that are not her preachers, 
and censures all sermons but bad ones. If her 
husband be a tradesman, she helps him to customers, 
howsoever to good cheer, and they are a most faith- 
ful couple at these meetings, for they never fail. 
Her conscience is like others lust, never satisfied, 
and you might better answer Scotus than her scruples. 
She is one that thinks she performs all her duties 
to God in hearing, and shews the fruits of it in 
talking. She is more fiery against the may-pole'''^ 
than her husband, and thinks she might do a 
Phineas''^act to break the pate of the fidler. She 
is an everlasting argument, but I am weary of her. 



76 For illustrations of the hatred of the Puritans against may- 
poles, see Brand's Popular Antiquities, I. 245, See also Strutt's Sports 
and Pastimes, 261. L, 

Ti Numbers xxv. 6. L. 



A SCEPTICK IN RELIGION. 75 

XXXV. 

A SCEPTICK IN RELIGION 

As one that hangs in the balance with all sorts of 
opinions, whereof not one but stirs him and none 
sways him. A man guiltier of credulity than he is 
taken to be; for it is out of his belief of every 
thing, that he fully believes nothing. Each religion 
scares him from its contrary: none persuades him 
to itself He would be wholly a christian, but that 
he is something of an atheist, and wholly an atheist, 
but that he is partly a christian; and a perfect heretic, 
but that there are so many to distract him. He 
finds reason in all opinions, truth in none: indeed 
the least reason perplexes him, and the best will 
not satisfy him. He is at most a confused and wild 
christian, not specialized by any form, but capable 
of all. He uses the land's religion, because it is 
next him, yet he sees not why he may not take the 
other, but he chuses this, not as better, but because 
there is not a pin to choose. He finds doubts and 
scruples better than resolves them, and is always 
too hard for himself His learning is too much for 



76 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

his brain, and his judgment too little for his learning, 
and his over-opinion of both, spoils all. Pity it was 
his mischance of being a scholar -, for it does only 
distract and irregulate him, and the world by him. 
He hammers much in general upon our opinion's 
uncertainty, and the possibility of erring makes 
him not venture on what is true. He is troubled 
at this naturalness of religion to countries, that 
protestantism should be born so in England and 
popery abroad, and that fortune and the stars should 
so much share in it. He likes not this connection 
of the common-weal and divinity, and fears it may 
be an arch-practice of state. In our differences 
with Rome he is strangely unfixed, and a new man 
every new day, as his last discourse-book's medita- 
tions transport him. He could like the gray hairs 
of popery, did not some dotages there stagger him : 
he would come to us sooner, but our new name af- 
frights him. He is taken with their miracles, but 
doubts an imposture; he conceives of our doctrine 
better, but it seems too empty and naked. He can- 
not drive into his fancy the circumscription of truth 
to our corner, and is as hardly persuaded to think 
their old legends true. He approves well of our 



A SCEPTICK IN RELIGION. 77 

faith, and more of their works, and is sometimes 
much affected at the zeal of Amsterdam. His con- 
science interposes itself betwixt duellers, and whilst 
it would part both, is by both wounded. He will 
sometimes propend much to us upon the reading a 
good writer, and at Bellarmine'" recoils as far back 
again; and the fathers justle him from one side to 
another. Now Socinus*" and Yorstius^o afresh 



78 Kobert Bellarmin, an Italian Jesuit, waa born at Monte Pulciano, 
a town in Tuscany, in the year 1542, and in 15G0 entered himself 
among the Jesuits. In 1599 he was honoured with a cardinal's hat, 
and in 1602 was presented with the arch bishopric of Capua: this, 
however, he resigned in 1005, when pope Paul V. desired to have 
him near himself. He was employed in the afiairs of the court of 
Rome till 1621, when, leaving the Vatican, he retired to a house be- 
longing to his order, and died September 17, in the same year. 

Bellarmin was one of the best controversial writers of his time ; 
few authors have done greater honour to their profession or opinions, 
and certain it is that none have ever more ably defended the cause 
of the Romish church, or contended in favor of the pope with greater 
advantage. As a proof of Bellarmin's abilities, there was scarcely 
a divine of any eminence among the protestants who did not attack 
him: Baylc aptly says, "they made his name resound every where, 
ut littus Hyla, Hyla, omne sonaret." 

79 Faustus Socinus is so well known as the founder of the sect 
which goes under his name, that a few words will be sufficient. He 
was born in 1539, at Sienna, and imbibed his opinions from the in- 
struction of his uncle, who always had a high opinion of and confidence 
in, the abilities of his nephew, to whom he bequeathed all his papers. 
After living several years in the world, principally at the court of 
Francis de Medicis, Socinus, in 1577, went into Germany, and began to 
propagate the principles of his uncle, to M^hich, it is said, he made 
great additions and alterations of his own. In the support of hia 
opinions, he suffered considerable hardships, and received the greatest 



78 MICROCOSMOGRAPHT. 

torture him, and lie agrees with none worse than 
himself. He puts his foot into heresies tenderly, as 
a cat in the water, and pulls it out again, and still 
something unanswered delays him; yet he bears 
away some parcel of each, and you may sooner pick 
all religions out of him than one. He cannot think 
so many wise men should be in error, nor so many 
honest men out of the way, and his wonder is double 
when he sees these oppose one another. He hates 
authority as the tyrant of reason, and you cannot 
anger him worse than with a father's dixit^ and yet 
that many are not persuaded with reason, shall 
authorise his doubt. In sum, his whole life is a 
question, and his salvation a greater, which death 
only concludes, and then he is resolved. 



insults and persecutions ; to avoid which, he retired to a place near 
Cracow, in Poland, where he died iu 1504, at the age of sixty-five. 

80 Conrade Vorstius, a learned divine, who was peculiarly detested 
by the Calvinists, and who had even the honour to be attacked by 
king James the first, of Enghiud, was born in 1569. Being compelled, 
through the interposition of James's ambassador, to quit Leyden, 
where he had attained the divinity-chair, and several other prefer- 
ments, he retired to Toningen, where he died in 1622, with the strong- 
est tokens of piety and resignation. 



AN ATTORNEY. 79 



XXXVI. 

AN ATTORNEY. 

XJLlS antient beginning was a blue coat, since a 
livery, and his hatching under a lawyer; whence, 
though but pen-feathered, he hath now nested for 
himself, and with his hoarded pence purchased an 
office. Two desks and a quire of paper set him 
up, where he now sits in state for all comers. We 
can call him no great author, yet he writes very 
much and with the infamy of the court is maintained 
in his libels."! He has some smatch of a scholar, 
and yet uses Latin very hardly ; and lest it should 
accuse him, cuts it off in the midst, and will not let 
it speak out. He is, contrary to great men, main- 
tained by his followers, that is, his poor country 
clients, that worship him more than their landlord, 
and be they never such churls, he looks for their 
courtesy. He first racks them soundly himself, and 
then delivers them to the lawyer for execution. His 
looks are very solicitous, importing much haste and 

81 His style is very constant, fw it keeps still the former aforesaid ; 
and yet it seems he is much troubled in it, for lie is always humbly 
complaining— yofur poor orator. First edit. 



80 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

dispatch, he is never without his hands full of busi- 
ness, that is — of paper. His skin becomes at last as 
dry as his parchment, and his face as intricate as the 
most winding cause. He talks statutes as fiercely as 
if he had mooted"^- seven years in the inns of court, 
when all his skill is stuck in his girdle, or in his office- 
window. Strife and wrangling have made him rich, 
and he is thankful to his benefactor, and nourishes 
it. If he live in a country village, he makes all his 
neighbours good subjects; for there shall be nothing 
done but what there is law for. His business gives 
him not leave to think of his conscience, and when 
the time, or term of his life is going out, for dooms- 
day he is secure ; for he hopes he has a trick to 
reverse judgment. 



82TowK?o^ea termevsedin theinnesofthe court; it is the hand- 
ling of a case, as in the Vniuersitie their disputations, &c. So 
Minsheiv, who supposes it to be derived from the French, mot, ver- 
bum, quasi verba facere^ aid sermonem tie aliqua re habere. Mootmen 
are those who, having studied seven or eight years, are qualified to 
practise, and appear to answer to our term of barristers. 



A PARTIAL MAN. 81 



XXXVII. 

A PARTIAL 31 AX 

XS the opposite extreme to a defamer, for the one 
speaks ill falsely, and the other well, and both slander 
the truth He is one that is still weighing men in 
the scale of comparisons, and puts his affections in 
the one balance and that sways. His friend always 
shall do best, and you shall rarely hear good of his 
enemy. He considers first the man and then the 
thing, and restrains all merit to what they deserve 
of him. Commendations he esteems not the debt 
of worth, but the requital of kindness; and if you 
ask his reason, shews his interest, and tells you how 
much he is beholden to that man. He is one that 
ties his judgment to the wheel of fortune, and they 
determine giddily both alike. He prefers England 
before other countries because he was born there, 
and Oxford before other universities, because he 
was brought up there, and the best scholar there is 
one of his own college, and the best scholar there 
is one of his friends. He is a great favourer of 
great persons, and his argument is still that which 
11 



82 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

should be antecedent; as, — he is in high place, 
therefore virtuous; — he is preferred, therefore 
worthy. Never ask his opinion, for you shall hear 
but his faction, and he is indifferent in nothing but 
conscience. Men esteem him for this a zealous af- 
fectionate, but they mistake him many times, for he 
does it but to be esteemed so. Of all men he is 
worst to write an history, for he will praise a Sejanus 
or Tiberius, and for some petty respect of his all 
posterity shall be cozened. 

XXXVIII. 
A TRUMPETER 

XS the elephant with the great trunk, for he eats 
nothing but what comes through this way. His 
profession is not so worthy as to occasion insolence, 
and yet no man so much puft up. His face is as 
brazen as his trumpet, and (which is worse,) as a 
fidler's from whom he differeth only in this, that 
his impudence is dearer. The sea of drink and 
much wind make a storm perpetually in his cheeks, 
and his look is like his noise, blustering and tem- 
pestuous. He was whilom the sound of war, but 



A VULGAK-SPIRITED MAN. 83 

now of peace; yet as terrible as ever, for whereso- 
ever he comes they are sure to pay for it. He is the 
common attendant of glittering folks, whether in the 
court or stage, where he is always the prologue's 
prologue.^'-* He is somewhat in the nature of a 
hogshead, shrillest when he is empty; when his 
belly is full he is quiet enough. No man proves 
life more to be a blast, or himself a bubble, and he 
is like a counterfeit bankrupt, thrives best when he 
is blown up. 

XXXIX. 

A VULGAR-SPIRITED MAN 

JLS one of the herd of the world. One that follows 
merely the common cry, and makes it louder by one. 
A man that loves none but w^ho are publickly affected, 
and he will not be wiser than the rest of the town. 
That never owns a friend after an ill name, or some 



83 The prologue to our ancient dramas was ushered in by trumpets, 
" Present not yotireelfe on the stage (especially at a new play) until! 
the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got cullor into his cheekes, 
and is ready togiue the trumpets their cue that hee's vpon point to 
enter." Decker's OuVs Hornbook, 1G09, p. 30. 

" Doe you not know that I am the prologue ? Do you not see this 
long blacke veluet cloke vpon my backe ? Eaue you not sounded 
thrice? " Heywood'si^oz/re Prentises of London. 4to. 1G15. 



84 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

general imputation, thougli he knows it most un- 
worthy. That opposes to reason, "thus men say;" 
and "thus most do;" and "thus the world goes;" 
and thinks this enough to poise the other. That 
worships men in place, and those only; and thinks 
all a great man speaks oracles. Much taken with 
my lord's jest, and repeats you it all to a syllable. 
One that justifies nothing out of fashion, nor any 
opinion out of the applauded way. That thinks 
certainly all Spaniards and Jesuits very villains, 
and is still cursing the pope and Spinola. One that 
thinks the gravest cassock the best scholar; and the 
best cloaths the finest man. That is taken only with 
broad and obscene wit, and hisses any thing too 
deep for him. That cries, Chaucer for his money 
above all our English poets, because the voice has- 
gone so, and he has read none. That is much ra- 
vished with such a nobleman's courtesy, and would 
venture his life for him, because he put off his 
hat. One that is foremost still to kiss the king's 
hand, and cries, " Grod bless his majesty!" loudest. 
That rails on all men condemned and out of favour, 
and the first that says " away with the traitors!" — 
yet struck with much ruth at executions, and for 



A VULGAR-SPIRITED MAN. 85 

pity to see a man die, could kill the hangman. 
That comes to London to see it, and the pretty things 
in it, and, the chief cause of his journey, the bears. 
That measures the happiness of the kingdom by the 
cheapness of corn, and conceives no harm of state, 
but ill trading. Within this compass too, come 
those that are too much wedged into the world, and 
have no lifting thoughts above those things; that 
call to thrive, to do well ; and preferment only the 
grace of God. That aim all studies at this mark, 
and shew you poor scholars as an example to take 
heed by. That think the prison and want a judg- 
ment for some sin, and never like well hereafter of 
a jail-bird. That know no other content but wealth, 
bravery, and the town pleasures; that think all else 
but idle speculation, and the philosophers madmen. 
In short, men that are carried away with all outward- 
nesses, shews, appearances, the stream, the people; 
for there is no man of worth but has a piece of 
singularity, and scorns something. 



86 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



XL. 

A PLODDING STUDENT 

XS a kind of alchyinist or persecutor of nature, that 
would change the dull lead of his brain into finer 
metal, with success many times as unprosperous, or 
at least not quitting the cost, to wit, of his own oil 
and candles. He has a strange forced appetite to 
learning, and to atchieve it brings nothing but 
patience and a body. His study is not great but 
continual, and consists much in the sitting up till 
after midnight in a rug-gown and a night-cap, to 
the vanquishing perhaps of some six lines; yet 
what he has, he has perfect, for he reads it so long 
to understand it, till he gets it without book. He 
may with much industry make a breach into logick, 
and arrive at some ability in an argument; but for 
politer studies he dare not skirmish with them, and 
for poetry accounts it impregnable. His invention 
is no more than the finding out of his papers, and 
his few gleanings there; and his disposition of them 
is as just as the book-binders, a setting or glowing 
of them together. He is a great discomforter of 



PAUL'S WALK. 87 

young students, by telling them what travel it has 
cost him, and how often his brain turned at phi- 
losophy, and makes others fear studying as a cause 
of duncery. He is a man much given to apothegms, 
which serve him for wit, and seldom breaks any jest 
but which belonged to some Lacedemonian or Roman 
in Lycosthenes.s^ He is like a dull carrier's horse, 
that will go a whole week together,- but never out 
of a foot pace; and he that sets forth on the Saturday 
shall overtake him. 

XLI. 
PAUL'S WALK^ 

XS the land's epitome, or you may call it the lesser 
isle of Great Britain. It is more than this, the 
whole world's map, which you may here discern in 
its perfectest motion, justling and turning. It is a 



84 Conrad Walffhart (in the classical style LycostJienes) was born at 
Buiiacli in 1518, became a professor at Basel and died about 1562. 
The book referred to is a voluminous collection of anecdotes and 
pithy sayings made by him under the title of ApopMhegmata. L. 

85 St. Paul's cathedral was, during the reigns of Elizabeth and 
James, a sort of exchange and publick parade, where business was 
transacted between merchants, and where the fashionables of the 
day exhibited themselves. The reader will find several allusions to 
this custom in the 'oarioim7n edition of Shakspeare, K. Henry IV. 



8« MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

heap of stones and men, with a vast confusion of 
languages; and were the steeple not sanctified, nothing 
liker Babel. The noise in it is like that of bees, a 
strange humming or buzz mixed of walking tongues 
and feet: it is a kind of still roar or loud whisper. 
It is the great exchange of all discourse, and no 
business whatsoever but is here stirring and a-foot. 
It is the synod of all pates politick, jointed and laid 
together in most serious posture, and they are not 
half so busy at the parliament. It is the antick of 
tails to tails, and backs to backs, and for vizards you 
need go no farther than faces. It is the market of 
young lecturers, whom you may cheapen here at all 
rates and sizes. It is the general mint of all famous 
lies, which are here like the legends of popery, first 
coined and stamped in the church. All inventions 
are emptied here, and not few pockets. The best 



part 2. Osborne, in his Traditional Memotres on the Reigns of Eliza- 
beth andJames, 12ino. 1658, says, "It was the fashion of those times 
(James I.) and did so continue till these, (the interregnum,) for the 
principal gentry, lords, courtiers, and men of all professions, not 
merely mechanicks, to meet in St. PauVs church by eleven, and walk 
in the middle isle till twelve, and after dinner from three to six ; 
during which time some discoursed of business, others of news." 
Weever complains of the practice, and says, " it could be wished that 
walking in the middle isle of Paules might be forborne in the time 
of diuine seruice." Ancient Funeral Monuments, 1631, page 373. 



Paul's walk. 89 

sign of a temple in it is, that it is the tliieves sanc- 
tuary, which rob more safely in the crowd than a 
wilderness, whilst every searcher is a bush to hide 
them. It is the other expence of the day, after 
plays, tavern, and a bawdy-house; and men have 
still some oaths left to swear here. It is the ear's 
brothel, and satisfies their lust and itch. The visitants 
are all men without exceptions, but the principal in- 
habitants and possessors are stale knights and 
captains'^^ out of service ; men of long rapiers and 
breeches, which after all turn merchants here and 
traffick for news. Some make it a preface to their 
dinner, and travel for a stomach ; but thriftier men 
make it their ordinary, and board here very cheap.^" 
Of all such places it is least haufnted with hobgoblins, 
for if a ghost would walk more, he could not. 



86 In the Dramatis Personce to Ben Jonson'a Every man in his 
Humour, Bobadil is styled a PaitPs f)ian ; and Falstaft' tells us that 
he bought Bardolph in PavPs. King Henry IV. Part 2. 

87 You'd not doe 

Like your penurious father, who was wont 
To walke his dinner out in Paules. 

Mayne's City Match, 1658. 



12 



90 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

XLII. 

A COOK. 

JL HE kitchen is his hell, and he the devil in it, 
where his meat and he fry together. His revenues 
are showered down from the fat of the land, and 
he interlards his own grease among to help the 
drippings. Cholerick he is not by nature so much 
as his art,'^" and it is a shrewd temptation that the 
chopping-knife is so near. His weapons, oftcr offen- 
sive, are a mess of hot broth and scalding water, 
and woe be to him that comes in his way. In the 
kitchen he will domineer and rule the roast in spight 
of his master, and curses in the very dialect of his 
calliug. His labour is meer blustering and fury, 
and his speech like that of sailors in a storm, a 
thousand businesses at once; yet, in all this tumult, 
he dose not love combustion, but will be the first 
man that shall go and quench it. He is never a 
good christian till a hissing pot of ale has slacked 
him, like water cast on a firebrand, and for that 



88 At all hours and all places I'll be angry ; and thus provoked, 
■when I am at my prayers I will be angry. 

Massinger. JVew Way to Pay old Debts. L. 



A COOK. 91 

time he is tame and dispossessed. His cunning is 
not small in architecture, for he builds strange fabricks 
in paste, towers and castles, which are offered to the 
assault of valiant teeth, and like Darius' palace in 
one banquet demolished. He is a pittiless murderer 
of innocents, and he mangles poor fowls with un- 
he,ard-of tortures; and it is thought the martyrs 
persecutions were devised from hence : sure we are, 
St. Lawrence's gridiron came out of his kitchen. 
His best faculty is at the dresser, where he seems to 
have great skill in the tacticks, ranging his dishes in 
order military, and placing with great discretion in 
the fore-front meats more strong and hardy, and 
the more cold and cowardly in the rear; as quaking 
tarts and quivering custards, and such milk-sop 
dishes, which scape many times the fury of the en- 
counter. But now the second course is gone up and 
he down in the cellar, where he drinks and sleeps 
till four o'clock"^ in the afternoon, and then returns 
again to his regiment. 



The time of supper was about live o'clock. See note at page 34. 



92 MICROCOSMOGEAPHY. 

XLIII. 

A BOLD FORWARD 3IAN 

As a lusty fellow in a crowd, that is beholden more 
to his elbow than his legs, for he does not go, but 
thrusts well. He is a good shuffler in the world, 
wherein he is so oft putting forth, that at ^ength lie 
puts on. He can do some things, but dare do much 
more, and is like a desperate soldier, who will 
assault any thing where he is sure not to enter. He 
is not so well opinioned of himself, as industrious to 
make others, and thinks no vice so prejudicial as 
blushing. He is still citing for himself, that a candle 
should not be hid under a bushel; and for his part 
he will be sure not to hide his, though his candle be 
but a snuff or rush-candle. Those few good parts 
he has, he is no niggard in displaying, and is like 
some needy flaunting goldsmith, nothing in the in- 
ner room, but all on the cupboard. If he be a scholar, 
he has commonly stepped into the pulpit before a 
degree, yet into that too before be deserved it. He 
never defers St. Mary's beyond his regency, and 



A BOLD FORWARD MAN. 93 



k 



his next sermon is at Paul's cross, ''o [and that 
printed.] He loves publick things alive; and for 
any solemn entertainment he will find a mouth, find 
a speech who will. He is greedy of great acquaint- 
ance and many, and thinks it no small advancement 
to rise to be known. [He is one that has all the 
great names at court at his fingers ends, and their 
lodgings; and with a saucy, " my lord," will salute 
the best of them.] His talk at the table is like 
Benjamin's mess, five times to his part, and no ar- 
gument shuts him out for a quarreller. Of all dis- 
graces he endures not to be nonplussed, and had 
rather fly for sanctuary to nonsense which few descry, 
than to nothing which all. His boldness is be- 
holden to other men's modesty, which rescues him 
many times from a baffle; yet his face is good armour, 
and he is dashed out of any thing sooner than 
countenance. Grosser conceits are puzzled in him 
for a rare man; and wiser men though they know 



90 Paul's cross stood in the church-yard of that cathedral, on the 
north side, towards the east end. It was used for the preaching of 
sermons to the populace; and Holinshed mentions two instances of 
publick penance being performed here ; in 1534 by some of the 
adherents of Elizabeth Barton, well known as the holy maid of Kent, 
and inl53G by sir Thomas Newman, a priest, who " bare a faggot at 
Paules crosse for singing masse ivith good ale.'''' 



94 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

him [yet] take him [in] for their pleasure, or as they 
would do a sculler for being next at hand. Thus 
preferment at last stumbles on him, because he is 
still in the way. His companions that flouted him 
before, now envy him, when they see him come 
ready for scarlet, whilst themselves lye musty in 
their old clothes and colleges. 



XLIV. 
A BAKER. 

JNI man verifies the proverb more, that it is an 
alms-deed to punish him; for his penalty is adole,^i 
amd does the beggars as much good as their dinner. 
He abhors, therefore, works of charity, and thinks 
his bread cast away when it is given to the poor. 
He loves not justice neither, for the weigh-scale's 
sake, and hates the clerk of the market as his execu- 
tioner; yet he finds mercy in his offences, and his 



91 Bole origiuallj' signified the portion of alms that was given away 
at the door of a nobleman. Steevens, note to Shaks2)eare. Sir 
John Hawkins affirms that the benelaction distributed at Lambeth 
palace gate, is to this day called the dole. 

Dole would seem rather to be usually applied to alms distributed at 
fViueidX^.— Brand's Popular Antiquities. II. 287. L. 



A PRETENDER TO LEARNING. 95 

basket only is sent to prison.^- Marry a pillory is 
his deadly enemy, and lie never hears well after. 



XLV. 
A PRETENDER TO LEARNING 

XS one that would make all others more fools than 
himself, for though he know nothing, he would not 
have the world know so much. He conceits nothing 
in learning but the opinion, which he seeks to pur- 
chase without it, though he might with less labour 
cure his ignorance than hide it. He is indeed a 
kind of scholar-mountebank, and his art our delusion. 
He is tricked out in all the accoutrements of learning, 
and at the first encounter none passes better. He 
is oftener in his study than at his book, and you can- 
not pleasure him better than to deprehend him : yet 
he hears you not till the third knock, and then comes 
out very angry as interrupted. You find him in his 
slippers'^^ and a pen in his ear, in which formality 
he was asleep. His table is spread wide with some 



92 That is, the contents of his basket if discovered to be of light 
weight, are distributed to the needy prisoners. 

93 study. First edit. 



96 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

classick folio, which is as constant to it as the carpet, 
and hath laid open in the same page this half year. 
His candle is always a longer sitter up than himself, 
and the hoasP^ of his window at midnight. He 
walks much alone in the posture of meditation, and 
has a book still before his face in the fields. His 
pocket is seldom without a Greek testament or 
Hebrew bible, which he opens only in the church, 
and that when some stander-by looks over. He has 
sentences for company, some scatterings of Seneca 
and Tacitus, which are good upon all occasions. If 
he reads any thing in the morning, it comes up all 
at dinner ; and as long as that lasts, the discourse is 
his. He is a great plagiary of tavern wit, and comes 
to sermons only that he may talk of Austin. His 
parcels are the mere scrapings from company, yet 
he complains at parting what time he has lost. He 
is wondrously capricious to seem a judgment, and 
listens with a sower attention to what he understands 
not. He talks much of Scaligcr, and Casaubon, 
and the Jesuits, and prefers some unheard-of Dutch 
name before them all. He has verses to bring in 



94 The first edition reads jw^f, and, I think, preferably. 



A HERALD. 97 

upon these and these hints, and it shall go hard but 
he will wind in his opportunity. He is critical in a 
language he cannot conster, and speaks seldom under 
Arminius in divinity. His business and retirement 
and caller away in his study, and he protests no 
delight to it comparable. He is a great nomenclator 
of authors, which he has read in general in the 
catalogue, and in particular in the title, and goes 
seldom so far as the dedication. He never talks of 
any thing but learning, and learns all from talking. 
Three encounters with the same men pump him, 
and then he only puts in or gravely says nothing. 
He has taken pains to be an ass, though not to be a 
scholar, and is at length discovered and laughed at. 



XLVI. 

A HERALD 

As the spawn or indeed but the resultancy of nobi- 
lity, and to the making of him went not a generation 
but a genealogy. His trade is honour, and he sells 
it and gives arms himself, though he be no gentle- 
man. His bribes are like those of a corrupt judge, 
for they are the prices of blood. He seems very 
13 



98 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

rich in discourse, for he tells you of whole fields of 
gold and silver, or, and argent, worth much in French 
but in English nothing. He is a great diver in the 
streams or issues of gentry, and not a by-channel or 
bastard escapes him; yea he does with them like 
same shameless queen, fathers more children on them 
than ever they begot. His traffick is a kind of 
pedlary-ware, scutehions, and pennons, and little 
daggers and lions, such as children esteem and 
gentlemen; but his pennyworths are rampant, for 
you may buy three whole brawns cheaper than three 
boar's heads of him painted. He was sometimes the 
terrible coat of Mars, but is now for more merciful 
battles in the tilt-yard, where whosoever is victori- 
ous, the spoils are his. He is an art in England but 
in Wales nature, where they are born with heraldry 
in their mouths, and each name is a pedigree. 



CATHEDRAL SINGING MEN. 99 



XLVII. 

THE COMMON SINGING-MEN IN CATHEDRAL 
CHURCHES 

xxRE a bad society, and yet a company of good 
fellows, that roar deep in the quire, deeper in the 
tavern. They are the eight parts of speech which 
go to the syntaxis of service, and are distinguished 
by their noises much like bells, for they make not 
a concert but a peal. Their pastime or recreation 
is prayers, their exercise drinking, yet herein so 
religiously addicted that they serve God oftest when 
they are drunk. Their humanity is a leg to the 
residencer,'-^ their learning a chapter, for they learn 
it commonly before they read it; yet the old Hebrew 
names are little beholden to them, for they mis-call 
them worse than one another. Though they never 
expound the scripture, they handle it much, and 
pollute the gospel with two things, their conversation 
and their thumbs. Upon worky-days, they behave 



95 " Their humanity is a leg to the residencer.'''' A leg here signifies 
a how. Decker says, " a jewe neuer weares his cap threedbare with 
putting it off ; neuer bends i" th' hammes with casting away a leg^ «&c." 
GuVs Hornebooke. p. 11. 

LOFC 



100 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

themselves in prayers as well as at their pots, for 
they swallow them down in an instant. Their gowns 
are laced commonly with streamings of ale, the 
superfluities of a cup or throat above measure. 
Their skill in melody makes them the better com- 
panions abroad, and their anthems abler to sing 
catches. Long lived for the most part they are not, 
especially the base, they overflow their bank so oft 
to drown the organs. Briefly, if they escape arrest- 
ing, they die constantly in God's service; and to 
take their death with more patience, they have wine 
and cakes at their funeral, and now they keep*"^ the 
church a great deal better, and help to fill it with 
their bones as before with their noise. 

XLVIII. 
A SHOP-KEEPER. 

XXIS shop is his well stuft book, and himself the 
title-page of it, or index. He utters much to all 
men, though he sells but to a few, and intreats for 
his own necessities, by asking others what they lack. 
No man speaks more and no more, for his words are 



96 Keep for attend. 



A SHOP-KEEPER. 101 

like his wares, twenty of one sort, and he goes over 
them alike to all commers. He is an arrogant com- 
mender of his own things; for whatsoever he shews 
you is the best in the town, though the worst in his 
shop. His conscience was a thing that would have 
laid upon his hands, and he was forced to put it off, and 
makes great use of honesty to profess upon. He 
tells you lies by rote, and not minding, as the phrase 
to sell in, and the language he spent most of his 
years to learn. He never speaks so truely as when 
he says he would use you as his brother; for he 
would abuse his brother, and in his shop thinks it 
lawful. His religion is much in the nature of his 
customers, and indeed the pander to it : and by a 
mis-interpreted sense of scripture makes a gain of 
his godliness. He is your slave while you pay him 
ready money, but if he once befriend you, your 
tyrant, and you had better deserve his hate than 
his trust. 



102 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



XLIX. 



A BL UNT MAN 

XS one whose wit is better pointed than his beha- 
viour, and that coarse and impolished, not out of 
ignorance so much as humour. He is a great enemy 
to the fine gentleman, and these things of comple- 
ment, and hates ceremony in conversation, as the 
Puritan in religion. He distinguishes not betwixt 
fair and double dealing, and suspects all smoothness 
for the dress of knavery. He starts at the encoun- 
ter of a salutation as an assault, and beseeches you 
in choler to forbear your courtesy. He loves not 
any thing in discourse that comes before the purpose, 
and is always suspicious of a preface. Himself fails 
rudely still on his matter without any circumstance, 
except he use an old proverb for an introduction. 
He swears old out-of-date innocent oaths, as, by the 
mass ! by our lady ! and such like, and though there 
be lords present, he cries, my masters ! He is exceed- 
ingly in love with his humour, which makes him 
always profess and proclaim it, and you must take 



A BLUNT MAN. 103 

what lie says patiently, because he is a plain man. 
His nature is his excuse still, and other men's 
tyrant; for he must speak his mind, and that is his 
worst, and craves your pardon most injuriously for not 
pardoning you. His jests best become him, because 
they come from him rudely and unaffected ; and he 
has the luck commonly to have them famous. He 
is one that will do more than he will speak, and yet 
speak more than he will hear ; for though he love 
to touch others, he is touchy himself and seldom to 
his own abuses replies but with his fists. He is as 
squeazy^^ of his commendations, as his courtesy, 
and his good word is like an eulogy in a satire. He 
is generally better favoured than he favours, as 
being commonly well expounded in his bitterness, 
and no man speaks treason more securely. He 
chides great men with most boldness, and is counted 
for it an honest fellow. He is grumbling much in 
the behalf of the commonwealth, and is in prison 
oft for it with credit. He is generally honest, but 
more generally thought so, and his downrightness 
credits him, as a man not well bended and crookned 
to the times. In conclusion, he is not easily bad, 



97 Squeazy, niggardly. 



104 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

in whom this quality is nature, but the counterfeit 
is most dangerous, since he is disguised in a humour, 
that professes not to disguise. 



• L. 
A HANDSOME HOSTESS. 

is the fairer commendation of an inn, above the 
fair sign, or fair lodgings. She is the loadstone that 
attracts men of iron, gallants and roarers, where 
they cleave sometimes long, and are not easily got 
off. Her lips are your welcome, and your enter- 
tainment her company, which is put into the reck- 
oning too, and is the dearest parcel in it. No 
citizen's wife is demurer than she at the first greet- 
ing, nor draws in her mouth with a chaster simper ; 
but you may be more familiar without distaste, and 
she does not startle at bawdry. She is the confusion 
of a pottle of sack more than would have been spent 
elsewhere, and her little jugs are accepted to have 
her kiss excuse them. She may be an honest woman, 
but is not believed so in her parish, and no man is a 
greater infidel in it than her husband. 



A CRITIC. 105 

LI. 

A CRITIC 
Xs one that has spelled over a great many books, 
and his observation is the orthography. He is the 
surgeon of old authors, and heals the wounds of 
dust and io-norauce. He converses much in fras;- 
ments and desunt multctt^, and if he piece it up with 
two lines he is more proud of that book than the 
author. He runs over all sciences to peruse their 
syntaxis, and thinks all learning comprised in writ- 
ing Latin. He tastes stiles as some discreeter 
palates do wine ; and tells you which is genuine, 
which sophisticate and bastard. His own phrase is 
a miscellany of old words, deceased long before the 
Caesars, and entombed by Yarro, and the modernest 
man he follows is Plautus. He writes omneis at 
length, and qmdqiiid, and his gerund is most incon- 
formable. He is a troublesome vexer of the dead, 
which after so long sparing must rise up to the 
judgment of his castigations'. He is one that makes 
all books sell dearer, whilst he swells them into 
folios with his comments. ^s 



98 On this passage, I fear, the preseut vohime will be a sufficient 
commentary, 

14 



106 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

LII. 
A SERGEANT, OR CATCH-POLE 

JLS one of God's judgments; and wliich our roar- 
ers do only conceive terrible. He is the properest 
shape wherein they fancy Satan ; for he is at most 
but an arrester, and hell a dungeon. He is the 
creditor's hawk, wherewith they seize upon flying- 
birds, and fetch them again in his tallons. He is 
the period of young gentlemen, or their full stop, 
for when he meets with them they can go no farther. 
His ambush is a shop-stall, or close lane, and his 
assault is cowardly at your back. He respites you 
in no place but a tavern, where he sells his minutes 
dearer than a clock-maker. The common way to 
run from him is through him, which is often 
attempted and atchieved, '^^\and no man is more 
beaten out of charity.'] He is one makes the street 
more dangerous than the highways, and men go bet- 
ter provided in their walks than their journey. He 
is the first handsel of the young rapiers of the tem- 
plers; and they are as proud of his repulse as an 



99 And the clubs out of charity knock him clotvn. First edit. 



AN UNIVERSITY DUN. 1Q7 

Hungarian of killing a Turk. He is a moveable 
prison, and his hands two manacles hard to be filed 
off. He is an occasioner of disloyal thoughts in the 
commonwealth, for he makes men hate the king's 
name worse than the devil's. 



LIII. 

AN UNIVERSITY DUN 

XS a gentleman's follower cheaply purchased, for 
his own money has hired him. He is an inferior 
creditor of some ten shillings downwards, contracted 
for horse-hire, or perchance for drink, too weak to be 
put in suit, and he arrests your modesty. He is now 
very expensive of his time, for he will wait upon 
your stairs a whole afternoon, and dance attendance 
with more patience than a gentleman-usher. He is 
a sore beleaguerer of chambers, and assaults them 
sometimes with furious knocks ; yet finds strong 
resistance commonly, and is kept out. He is a great 
complainer of scholar's loytering, for he is sure 
never to find them within, and yet he is the chief 
cause many times that makes them study. He 



Ijj8 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

oTumbles at the inoratitude of men that shun him 
for his kindness, but indeed it is his own fault, for 
he is too great an upbraider. No man puts them 
more to their brain than he ; and by shifting him 
off they learn to shift in the world. Some chuse 
their rooms on purpose to avoid his surprisals, and 
think the best commodity in them his prospect. He 
is like a rejected acquaintance, hunts those that care 
not for his company, and he knows it well enough, 
and yet will not keep away. The sole place to sup- 
ple him is the buttery, where he takes grievous use 
upon your name,^fo ai^d \^q [q one much wrought 
with good beer and rhetorick. He is a man of most 
unfortunate voyages, and no gallant walks the streets 
to less purpose. 

LIV. 

A STAYED MAN 

XS a man : one that has taken order with himself, 
and sets a rule to those lawlesnesses within him : 
whose life is distinct and in method, and his actions, 



100 That is, inins ymi tq) a long score. 



A STAYED MAN. 109 

as it were, cast up before : not loosed into the world^s 
vanities, but gathered up and contracted in his sta- 
tion : not scattered into many pieces of businesses, 
but that one course he takes, goes through with. A 
man firm and standing in his purposes, not heaved 
off with each wind and passion : that squares his 
expence to his coffers, and makes the total first, and 
then the items. One that thinks what he does, and 
does what he says, and foresees what he may do 
before he purposes. One whose " if I can " is more 
than another's assurance : and his doubtful tale 
before some men's protestations: — that is confident 
of nothing in futurity, yet his conjectures oft true 
prophecies — that makes a pause still betwixt his ear 
and belief, and is not too hasty to say after others. 
One whose tongue is strung up like a clock till the 
time, and then strikes, and says much when he talks 
little : — that can see the truth betwixt two wrang- 
lers, and sees them agree even in that they fall out 
upon: — that speaks no rebellion in a bravery, or 
talks big from the spirit of sack. A man cool and 
temperate in his passions, not easily betrayed by his 
choler : — that vies not oath with oath, nor heat with 
heat, but replies calmly to an angry man, and is too 



110 MICEOCOSMOGRAPHY. 

hard for him too : — that can come fairly off from 
captain's companies, and neither drink nor quarreh 
One whom no ill hunting sends home discontented, 
and makes him swear at his dogs and family. One 
not hasty to pursue the new fashion, nor yet affectedly 
true to his old round breeches ; but gravely hand- 
some, and to his place, which suits him better than 
his taylor : active in the world without disquiet, and 
careful without misery ; yet neither ingulphed in 
his pleasures, nor a seeker of business, but lias his 
hour for both. A man that seldom laughs violently, 
but his mirth is a cheerful look : of a composed and 
settled countenance, not set, nor much alterable with 
sadness or joy. He affects nothing so wholly, that 
he must be a miserable man when he loses it; but 
fore-thinks what will come hereafter, and spares 
fortune his thanks and curses. One that loves his 
credit, not this word reputation ; yet can save both 
without a duel. Whose entertainments to greater 
men are respectful, not complementary; and to his 
friends plain, not rude. A good husband, father, 
master; that is, without doting, pampering, fami- 
liarity. A man well poised in all humours, in whom 
nature shewed most geometry, and he has not spoiled 



A MODEST MAN. Ill 

the work. A man of more wisdom than wittiness, 
and brain than fancy ; and abler to any thing than 
to make verses. 



LV. 

A 310DEST MAN 



S a far finer man than he knows of, one that shews 



I 

better to all men than himself, and so much the better 
to all men, as less to himself; ^oi for no quality sets 
a man off like this, and commends him more against 
his will : and he can put up any injury sooner than 
this (as he calls it) your irony. You shall hear him 
confute his commenders, and giving reasons how 
much they are mistaken, and is angry almost if they 
do not believe him. Nothing threatens him so much 
as great expectation, which he thinks more preju- 
dicial than your under-opinion, because it is easier 
to make that false, than this true. He is one that 
sneaks from a good action, as one that had pilfered. 



101 This, as well as many other passages iu this work, has been 
appropriated by John Duuton, the celebrated bookseller, as his own. 
See his character of Mr. Samuel Hool, in DuntorCs Life and Errors, 
Svo. 1705. p. 337. 



112 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

and dare not justify it ; and is more blushingly 
ppreliended in this, than others in sin: that counts 
all publick declarings of himself, but so many 
penances before the people ; and the more you ap- 
plaud him, the more you abash him, and he recovers 
not his face a month after. One that is easy to like 
anything of another man's, and thinks all he knows 
not of him better than that he knows. He excuses 
that to you, which another would impute; and if you 
pardon him. is satisfied. One that stands in no 
opinion because it is his own, but suspects it rather, 
because it is his own, and is confuted and thanks 
you. He sees nothing more willingly than his errors, 
and it is his error sometimes to be too soon per- 
suaded. He is content to be auditor, where he only 
can speak, and content to go away, and think him- 
self instructed. No man is so weak that he is 
ashamed to learn of, and is less ashamed to confess 
it; and he finds many times even in the dust, what 
others overlook and lose. Every man's presence is 
a kind of bridle to him, to stop the roving of his 
tongue and passions : and even impudent men look 
for this reverence from him, and distaste that in him, 
which they sufi"er in themselves, as one in whom 



A MEER EMPTY WIT. 113 

vice is ill-favoured, and shows more scurvily than 
another. A bawdy jest shall shame him more than 
a bastard another man, and he that got it shall cen- 
sure him among the rest. And he is coward to 
nothing more than an ill tongue, and whosoever 
dare lye on him hath power over him ; and if you 
take him by his look, lie is guilty. The main 
ambition of his life is not to be discredited ; and for 
other things, his desires are more limited than his 
fortunes, which he thinks preferment, though never 
so mean, and that he is to do something to deserve 
this. He is too tender to venture on great places, 
and would not hurt a dignity to help himself: If 
he do, it was the violence of his friends constrained 
him, how hardly soever he obtain it, he was harder 
persuaded to seek it. 

LVI. 
A 3IEER EMPTY WIT 

XS like one that spends on the stock without any 
revenues coming in, and will shortly be no wit at 
all ; for learning is the fuel to the fire of wit, which, 
if it wants its feeding, eats out itself. A good con- 
15 



114 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

ceit or two bates of such a man, and makes a 
sensible weakening in him ; and his brain recovers 
it not a year after. The rest of him are bubbles 
and flashes, darted out on a sudden; which, if you 
take them while they are warm, may be laughed at 3 
if they are cool, are nothing. He speaks best on 
the present apprehension, for meditation stupifies 
him, and the more he is in travel, the less he brings 
forth. His things come off then, as in a nauseating 
stomach, where there is nothing to cast up, strains 
and convulsions, and some astonishing bombast, 
which men only, till they understand, are scared 
with. A verse or some such work he may sometimes 
get up to, but seldom above the stature of an epi- 
gram, and that with some relief out of Martial, 
which is the ordinary companion of his pocket, and 
he reads him as he were inspired. Such men are 
commonly the trifling things of the world, good to 
make merry the company, and whom only men 
have to do withal when they have nothing to do, 
and none are less their friends than who are most 
their company. Here they vent themselves over a 
cup some-what more lastingly ; all their words go 
for jests, and all their jests for nothing. They are 



A DRUNKARD. 115 

nimble in the fancy of some ridiculous thing, and 
reasonable good in the expression. Nothing stops a 
jest when it's coming, neither friends, nor danger, 
but it must out howsoever, though their blood come 
out after, and then they emphatically rail, and are 
emphatically beaten, and commonly are men reasona- 
ble familiar to this. Briefly they are such whose 
life is but to laugh and be laughed at ; and only 
wits in jest and fools in earnest. 

LVII. 
A DRUNKARD 

As one that will be a man to-morrow morning, but 
is now what you will make him, for he is in the 
power of the next man, and if a friend the better. 
One that hath let go himself from the hold and stay 
of reason, and lies open to the mercy of all tempta- 
tions. No lust but finds him disarmed and fenceless, 
and with the least assault enters. If any mischief 
escape him, it was not his fault, for he was laid as 
fair for it as he could. Every man sees him, as 
Cham saw his father the first of this sin, an unco- 
vered man, and though his garment be on, uncovered ; 



116 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

the secretest parts of his soul lying in the nakedest 
manner visible : all his passions come out now, all 
his vanities, and those shamefuller humours which 
discretion clothes. His body becomes at last like a 
miry way, where the spirits are beclogged and can- 
not pass : all his members are out of ofl&ce, and his 
heels do but trip up one another. He is a blind 
man with eyes, and a cripple with legs on. All the 
use he has of this vessel himself, is to hold thus 
much ; for his drinking is but a scooping in of so 
many quarts, which are filled out into his body, and 
that filled out again into the room, which is com- 
monly as drunk as he. Tobacco serves to air him 
after a washing, and is his only breath and breath- 
ing while. He is the greatest enemy to himself, 
and the next to his friend, and then most in the act 
of his kindness, for his kindness is but trying a 
mastery, who shall sink down first : and men come 
from him as a battle, wounded and bound up. 
Nothing takes a man off more from his credit, and 
business, and makes him more retchlesly^o'2 careless 



102 RecWesse, negligent. Saxon, rectlesse. Chaucer uses it also 
as an adjective : 

" I may not in this cas be recchelesy 

aerkes Tale, v. 8364. 



A PRISON. 117 

what becomes of all. Indeed he dares not enter on 
a serious thought, or if he do, it is such melancholy 
that it sends him to be drunk again. 

LVIII. 
A PRISON 

As the grave of the living,i03 where they are shut 
up from the world and their friends ; and the worms 
that gnaw upon them their own thoughts and the 
jaylor. A house of meagre looks and ill smells, for 
lice, drink, and tobacco are the compound. Pluto's 
court was expressed from this fancy ; and the per- 
sons are much about the same parity that is there. 
You may ask as Menippus in Lucian, which is Ni- 
reus, which Thersites, which the beggar^ which the 
knight ', — for they are all suited in the same form 
of a kind of nasty poverty. Only to be out at el- 
bows is in fashion here, and a great indecorum not 
to be thread-bare. Every man shews here like so 
many wracks upon the sea, here the ribs of a thou- 



103 " A prison is a graue to bury men aliue, and a place wherein a 
man for halfe a yeares experience may learne more law than he can 
at Westminster for an himdred pound." Mynshul's Essays and 
Characters of a Pnson. 4to. 1618. 



118 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

sand pound, here the relicks of so many mannors, a 
doublet without buttons ; and 'tis a spectacle of more 
pity than executions are. The company one with the 
other is but a vying of complaints, and the causes 
they have to rail on fortune and fool themselves, 
and there is a great deal of good fellowship in this. 
They are commonly, next their creditors, most bit- 
ter against the lawyers, as men that have had a 
great stroke in assisting them hither. Mirth here 
is stupidity or hardheartedness, yet they feign it 
sometimes to slip melancholy, and keep off them- 
selves from themselves, and the torment of thinking 
what they have been. Men huddle up their life 
here as a thing of no use, and wear it out like an 
old suit, the faster the better ; and he that deceives 
the time best, best spends it. It is the place where 
new comers are most welcomed, and, next them, ill 
news, as that which extends their fellowship in 
misery, and leaves few to insult : — and they breath 
their discontents more securely here, and have their 
tongues at more liberty than abroad. Men see here 
much sin and much calamity ; and where the last 
does not mortify, the other hardens ; as those that 
are worse here, are desperately worse, and those from 



A SERVING MAN. 119 

whom the horror of sin is taken oif and the punish- 
ment familiar : and commonly a hard thought 
passes on all that come from this school; which 
though it teach much wisdom, it is too late, and 
with danger : and it is better be a fool than come 
here to learn it. 

LIX. 

A SERVING MAN 

As one of the makings up of a gentleman as well 
as his clothes, and somewhat in the same nature, 
for he is cast behind his master as fashionably as his 
sword and cloak are, and he is but in querpo lo^ 
without him. His properness io«5 qualifies him, and 
of that a good leg ; for his head he has little use 



104 In querpo is a corruption from the Spanish word citerpo. " En 
cuerpo^ a man ivithout a cloak.'' Pineda's Dictionary, 1740. The 
present signification evidently is, that a gentleman without his serv- 
ing-man, or attendant, is but half dressed: — he possesses only in 
part the appearance of a man of fashion. " To icalk in cuerpo, is to 
go without a cloak,.'''' Glossographia Anglicana Nova, 8vo. 1719. 

105 Proper was frequently used by old writers for comely, or hand- 
some. Shakspeare has several instances of it : 

" I do mistake my person all this while : 
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
Myself to be a marvellous proper man. " 

K. Richard III. Act 1. Sc. 2. &c. 



120 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

but to keep it bare. A good dull wit best suits with 
him to comprehend common sense and a trencher; 
for any greater store of brain it makes him but 
tumultuous, and seldom thrives with him. He fol- 
lows his master's steps, as well in conditions as the 
street : if he wench or drink, he comes him in an 
under kind, and thinks it a part of his duty to be 
like him. He is indeed wholly his master's ; of his 
faction, — of his cut, — of his pleasures: — he is 
handsome for his credit, and drunk for his credit, and 
if he have power in the cellar, commands the parish. 
He is one that keeps the best company, and is none of 
it ) for he knows all the gentlemen his master knows, 
and picks from thence some hawking and horse-race 
terms •"•' which he swaggers with in the ale house, 
where he is only called master. His mirth is bawdy 
jests with the wenches, and, behind the door, bawdy 
earnest. The best work he does is his marrying, for 
it makes an honest woman, and if he follows in it his 
master's direction, it is commonly the best service he 
does him. 



lOG " Why you know an'a man have not skill in the hawking and 
hunting languages now-a-days, I'll not give a rush for him." Mas- 
ter Stephen. Every Man in his Humoii4\ 



AN INSOLENT MAN. 121 

LX. 

AN INSOLENT 3IAN 

J.S a fellow newly great and newly proud; one that 
hath put himself into another face upon his preferment, 
for his own was not bred to it. One whom fortune 
hath shot up to some office or authority, and he 
shoots up his neck to his fortune, and will not bate 
you an inch of either. His very countenance and 
gesture bespeak how much he is, and if you under- 
stand him not, he tells you, and concludes every 
period with his place, which you must and shall 
know. He is one that looks on all men as if he were 
angry, but especially on those of his acquaintance, 
whom he beats off with a surlier distance, as men 
apt to mistake him, because they have known him : 
and for this cause he knows not you ^till you have 
told him your name, which he thinks he has heard, 
but forgot, and with much ado seems to recover. 
If you have any thing to use him in, you are his 
vassal for that time, and must give him the patience 
of any injury, which he does only to shew what he 
may do. He snaps you up bitterly, because he will 
16 



122 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

be offended, and tells you, you are sawcy and trou- 
blesome, and sometimes takes your money in this 
language. His very courtesies are intolerable, they 
are done with such an arrogance and imputation ; 
and he is the only man you may hate after a good 
turn, and not be ungrateful; and men reckon it 
amonj!: their calamities to be beholden unto him. 
No vice draws with it a more general hostility, and 
makes men readier to search into his faults, and of 
them, his beginning; and no tale so unlikely but is 
willingly heard of him and believed. And com- 
monly such men are of no merit at all, but make 
out in pride what they want in worth, and fence 
themselves with a stately kind of behaviour from 
that contempt which would pursue them. They are 
men whose preferment does us a great deal of wrong, 
and when they are down, we may laugh at them 
without breach of good-nature. 

LXI. 

ACQUAINTANCE 

JLS the first draught of a friend, whom we must lay 

down oft thus, as the foul copy, before we can write 

him perfect and true : for from hence, as from a pro- 



ACQUAINTANCE. 123 

bation, men take a degree in our respect, till at last 
they wholly possess us: for acquaiutance is the 
hoard, and friendship the pair chosen out of it ) by 
which at last we begin to impropriate and inclose to 
ourselves what before lay in common with others. 
And commonly where it grows not up to this, it falls 
as low as may be ; and no poorer relation than old ac- 
quaintance, of whom we only ask how they do for 
fashion's sake, and care not. The ordinary use of 
acquaintance is but somewhat a more boldness of 
society, a sharing of talk, news, drink, mirth together; 
but sorrow is the right of a friend, as a thing nearer 
our heart, and to be delivered with it. Nothing 
easier than to create acquaintance, the mere being 
in company once does it ; whereas friendship, like 
children, is ingeudered by a more inward mixture, 
and coupling together; when we are acquainted not 
with their virtues only, but their faults, their pas- 
sions, their fears, their shame, — and are bold on both 
sides to make their discovery. And as it is in the 
love of the body, which is then at the height and full 
when it has power and admittance into the hidden 
and worst parts of it ; so it is in friendship with the 
mind, when those tereuc?a of the soul, and those things 



124 MICROCOSMOGRAPIIY. 

■which we dare not shew the world, are bare and de- 
tected one to another. Some men are familiar with 
all, and those commonly friends to none ; for friend- 
ship is a sullencr thing, is a contractor and taker up of 
our affections to some few, and suffers them not 
loosely to be scattered on all men. The poorest tie 
of acquaintance is that of place and country, which 
are shifted as the place, and missed but while the 
fiincy of that continues. These are only then glad- 
dest of other, when they meet in some foreign region, 
where the encompassing of strangers unites them 
closer, till at last they get new, and throw off one an- 
other. Men of parts and eminency, as their acquaint- 
ance is more sought for, so they are generally more 
staunch of it, not out of pride only, but fear to let 
too many in too near them : for it is with men as 
with pictures, the best show better afar off and at 
distance, and the closer you come to them the coarser 
they are. The best judgment of a man is taken 
from his acquaintance, for friends and enemies are 
both partial ; whereas these see him truest because 
calmest, and are no ways so engaged to lie for him. 
And men that grow strange after acquaintance, sel- 
dom piece together again, as those that have tasted 



A MEER COMPLIMEXTAL MAN. 125 

meat and dislike it, out of a mutual experience dis- 
relishing one another. 

LXII. 

A MEER COMPLIMENTAL 3IAX 

XS one to be held off still at the same distance you 
are now ; for you shall have him but thus, and if 
you enter on him farther you lose him. Methinks 
Virgil well expresses him in those well-behaved 
ghosts that ^'Eneas met with, that were friends to 
talk with, and men to look on, but if he grasped 
them, but air. lo' He is one that lies kindly to 
you, and for good fiishion's sake, and tis discourtesy 
in you to believe him. His words are so many fine 
phrases set together, which serve equally for all 
men, and are equally to no purpose. Each fresh 
encounter with a man puts him to the same part 
again, and he goes over to you what he said to him 
was last with him : he kisses your hands as he kissed 
his before, and is your servant to be commanded, 



107 Ter couatus ibi collo dare brachia circum : 
Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, 
Par leuibus ventis, volucrique eimillima somno. 

Virgil Mn. vi. v. 700. edit. Heyne, 1787 



126 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

but you shall intreat of liim nothing. His proffers 
are universal and general, with exceptions against 
all particulars. He will do any thing for you, but 
if you urge him to this, he cannot, or to that, he is 
engaged ^ but he will do any thing. Promises he 
accounts but a kind of mannerly words, and in the 
expectation of your manners not to exact them : if 
you do, he wonders at your ill breeding, that cannot 
distinguish betwixt what is spoken and what is 
meant. No man gives better satisfaction at the first, 
and comes off more with the elogy of a kind gentle- 
man, till you know him better, and then you know 
him for nothing. And commonly those most rail at 
him, that have before most commended him. The 
best is, he co5:ens you in a fair manner, and abuses 
you with great respect. 

LXni. 
A POOR FIDDLER 
XS a man and a fiddle out of case, and he in worse 
case than his fiddle. One that rubs two sticks to- 
gether (as the Indians strike fire), and rubs a poor 
living out of it ] partly from this, and partly from 
your charity, which is more in the hearing than 



A POOR FIDDLER. 127 

o-iving him, for he sells nothing clearer than to be 
gone. He is just so many strings above a beggar, 
though he have but two; and yet he begs too, 
only not in the downright ' for Grod's sake, ' but 
with a shrugging ' Grod bless you/ and his face is 
more pined than the blind man's. Hunger is the 
greatest pain he takes, except a broken head some- 
times, and the laboring John Dory, lo^ Otherwise 
his life is so many fits of mirth, and tis some mirth 
to see him. A good feast shall draw him five miles 
by the nose, and you shall track him again by the 
scent. His other pilgrimages are fairs and good 
houses, where his devotion is great to the Christ- 
mas ', and no man loves good times better. He is 
in league with the tapsters for the worshipful of 
the inn, whom he torments next morning with his 
art, and has their names more perfect than their 
men. A new song is better to him than a new 
jacket, especially if bawdy, which he calls merry; 
and hates naturally the puritan, as an enemy to his 
mirth. A country wedding and Whitson-ale lot* are 



108 Probably the name of some difficult tune. 

109 Whitsuu-ales were feasts or merry-makings held at Whitsun- 
tide. A full account may be found in Brand's Popular Antiquities, 
I, 276. L. 



128 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

two main places lie domineers in, wliere he goes for 
a musician, and overlooks the bag-pipe. The rest 
of him is drunk, and in the stocks. 



LXIV. 

A MEDDLING MAN 

Is one that has nothing to do with his business, 
and yet no man busier than he, and his business is 
most in his face. He is one thrusts himself vio- 
lently into all employments, unsent for, unfeed, and 
many times unthanked ; and his part in it is only 
an eager bustling, that rather keeps ado than does 
any thing. He will take you aside, and question 
you of your affair, and listen with both ears, and 
look earnestly, and then it is nothing so much yours 
as his. He snatches what you are doing out of your 
hands, and cries " give it me, '' and does it worse, 
and lays an engagement upon you too, and you must 
thank him for this pains. He lays you down an 
hundred wild plots, all impossible things, which 
you must be ruled by perforce, and he delivers them 
with a serious and counselling forehead ; and there 
is a o-reat deal more wisdom in this forehead than 



A GOOD OLD MAN. 129 

his bead. He will woo for you, solicit for you, and 
woo you to suffer him ; and scarce any thing done, 
wherein his letter, or his journey, or at least him- 
self is not seen : if he have no task in it else, he 
will rail yet on some side, and is often beaten when 
be need not. Such men never thoroughly weigh 
any business, but are forward only to shew their 
zeal, when many times this forwardness spoils it, and 
then they cry they have done what they can, that 
is, as much hurt. Wise men still deprecate these 
men's kindnesses, and are beholden to them rather 
to let them alone ; as being one trouble more in all 
business, and which a man shall be hardest rid of. 

LXV. 

A GOOD OLD MAN 

-is the best antiquity, and which we may with 
least vanity admire. One whom time hath been 
thus long a working, and like winter fruit, ripened 
when others are shaken down. He hath taken out 
as many lessons of the world as days, and learnt 
the best thing in it ; the vanity of it. He looks 
over his former life as a danger well past, and would 
17 



130 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

not hazard himself to begin again. His lust was 
long broken before his body, yet he is glad this 
temptation is broke too, and that he is fortified from 
it by this weakness. The next door of death sads 
him not, but he expects it calmly as his turn in na- 
ture ; and fears more his recoiling back to childish- 
ness than dust. All men look on him as a common 
father, and on old age, for his sake, as a reverent 
thing. His very presence and face puts vice out of 
countenance, and makes it an indecorum in a 
vicious man. He practises his experience on youth 
without the harshness of reproof, and in his counsel 
his good company. He has some old stories still of 
his own seeing to confirm what he says, and makes 
them better in the telling ; yet is not troublesome 
neither with the same tale again, but remembers 
with them how oft he has told them. His old say- 
ings and morals seem proper to his beard ; and the 
poetry of Cato does well out of his mouth, and he 
speaks it as if he were the author. He is not apt 
to put the boy on a younger man, nor the fool on a 
boy, but can distinguish gravity from a sour look ; 
and the less testy he is, the more regarded. You 
must pardon him if he like his own times better 



A FLATTERER. 131 

than these, because those things are follies to him 
now that were wisdom then ; yet he makes us of that 
opinion too when we see him, and conjecture those 
times by so good a relick. He is a man capable of 
a dearness with the youngest men, yet he not youth- 
fuller for them, but they older for him ; and no 
man credits more his acquaintance. He goes away 
at last too soon whensoever, with all men's sorrow 
but his own ; and his memory is fresh, when it is 
twice as old. 

LXVI. 

A FLATTERER 

J.S the picture of a friend, and as pictures flatter 
many times, so he oft shews fairer than the true 
substance : his look, conversation, company, and all 
the outwardness of friendship more pleasing by odds, 
for a true friend dare take the liberty to be sometimes 
offensive, whereas he is a great deal more cowardly, 
and will not let the least hold go, for fear of losing 
you. Your meer sour look affrights him, and makes 
him doubt his casheeriug. And this is one sure 
mark of him, that he is never first angry, but ready 
though upon his own wrong to make satisfaction. 



132 MICROCOSMOGRAPnY. 

Therefore be is never yoked with a poor man, or 
any that stands on the lower ground, but whose 
fortunes may tempt bis pains to deceive him. Him 
be learns first, and learns well, and grows perfeeter 
in his humours than himself, and by this door 
enters upon his soul, of which be is able at last to 
take the very print and mark, and fashion his own 
by it, like a false key to open all your secrets. All 
his aflfections jump^^o even with your's ; be is be- 
fore-hand with your thoughts, and able to suggest 
them unto you. He will commend to 3'ou first what 
be knows you like, and has always some absurd 
story or other of your enemy, and then wonders how 
your two opinions should jump in that man. He 
will ask your counsel sometimes as a man of deep 
judgment, and has a secret of purpose to disclose 
to you, and, whatsoever you say, is persuaded. He 
listens to your words with great attention, and some- 
times will object that you may confute him, and 
then protests he never heard so much before. A 



110 Jump here signifies to coincide. The old play of Soliman 
and Perseda, 4to. tvithout date, uses it in the same sense : 

"Wert thou nay friend, thy mind. wou\A jump with mine." 
So in Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to the Divele : — 
"Not two o[X'hQm jump in one tale." p. 29. 



A HIGH SPIRITED MAN. 133 

piece of wit bursts him with an overflowing laughter, 
and he remembers it for you to all companies, and 
laughs again in the telling. He is one never chides 
you but for your vertues, as, you are too good, too 
Jionest, too religious, when his chiding may seem 
but the ernester commendation; and yet would fain 
chide you out of them too ; for your vice is the 
thing he has use of, and wherein you may best use 
him ; and he is never more active than in the worst 
diligences. Thus, at last, he possesses you from 
yourself, and then expects but his hire to betray you : 
and it is a happiness not to discover him ) for as 
long as you are happy, you shall not. 



LXVII. 

A HIGH-SPIRITED 31 AN 

Is one that looks like a proud man, but is not: you 
may forgive him his looks for his worth's sake, for 
they are only too proud to be base. One whom no 
rate can buy off from the least piece of his freedom, 
and make him digest an unworthy thought an hour. 
He cannot crouch to a great man to possess him. 



134 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

nor fall low to the earth to rebound never so liigh 
again. He stands taller on his own bottom, than 
others on the advantage ground of fortune, as having 
solidly that honour, of which title is but the pomp. 
He does homage to no man for his great stile's sake, 
but is strictly just in the exaction of respect again, 
and will not bate you a complement. He is more 
sensible of a neglect than an undoing, and scorns no 
man so much as his surly thrcatener. A man 
quickly fired, and quickly laid down with satisfaction, 
but remits any injury sooner than words: only to 
himself he is irreconcileable, whom he never forgives 
a disgrace, but is still stabbing himself with the 
thought of it, and no disease that he dies of sooner. 
He is one had rather perish than be beholden 
for his life, and strives more to be quit with his 
friend than his enemy. Fortune may kill him but 
not deject him, nor make him fall into an humbler 
key than before, but he is now loftier than ever in 
his own defence; you shall hear him talk still after 
thousands, and he becomes it better than those that 
have it. One that is above the world and its 
drudgery, and cannot pull down his thoughts to the 
pelting businesses of life. He would sooner accept 



A MEER GULL CITIZEN. 135 

the gallows than a mean trade, or any thing that 
might disparage the height of man in him, and 
yet thinks no death comparably base to hanging 
either. One that will do nothing upon command, 
though he would do it otherwise ; and if ever he 
do evil, it is when he is dared to it. He is one 
that if fortune equal his worth puts a luster in 
all preferment; but if otherwise he be too much 
crossed, turns desperately melancholy, and scorns 
mankind. 



LXVIII. 

A MERE GULL CITIZEN 

is one much about the same model and pitch of 
brain that the clown is, only of somewhat a more 
polite and finical ignorance, and as sillily scorns 
him as he is sillily admired by him. The (|uality of 
the city hath afforded him some better dress of 
clothes and language, which he uses to the best ad- 
vantage, and is so much the more ridiculous. His 
chief education is the visits of his shop, where if 
courtiers and fine ladies resort, he is infected with 



136 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

SO much more eloquence, and if he catch one 
word extraordinary, wears it for ever. You shall 
hear him mince a complement sometimes that was 
never made for him; and no man pays dearer for 
good words, — for he is oft paid with them. He is 
suited rather fine than in the fashion, and has still 
something to distinguish him from a gentleman, 
though his doublet cost more ; especially on Sundays, 
bridegroom-like, where he carries the state of a very 
solemn man, and keeps his pew as his shop ; and it 
is a great part of his devotion to feast the minister. 
But his chiefest guest is a customer, which is the 
greatest relation he acknowledges, especially if you 
be an honest gentleman, that is trust him to cozen 
you enough. His friendships are a kind of gossip- 
ping friendships, and those commonly within the 
circle of his trade, wherein he is careful principally 
to avoid two things, that is poor men and suretiships. 
He is a man will spend his six-pence with a great 
deal of imputation, m and no man makes more of a 
pint of wine than he. He is one bears a pretty kind 
of foolish love to scholars, and to Cambridge especi- 



111 Imputation here must be used for consequence ; of which I am. 
however, unable to produce any other instance. 



A MEER GULL CITIZEN. 137 

ally for Sturbridge^i^ fair's sake ; and of these all arc 
truants to him that are not preachers, and of these 
the loudest the best; and he is much ravished with 
the noise of a rolling tongue. He loves to hea" 
discourses out of his element, and the less he under- 
stands the better pleased, which he expresses in a 
smile and some fond protestation. One that does 
nothing without his chuck, ^''^ that is his wife with 
whom he is billing still in conspiracy, and the wan- 
toner she is, the more power she has over him; and 
she never stoops so low after him, but is the only 
woman goes better of a widow than a maid. In the 
education of his child no man fearful ler, and the 
danger he fears is a harsh school-master, to whom 
he is alledging still the weakness of the boy, and 
pays a fine extraordinary for his mercy. The first 
whipping rids him to the university, and from thence 



112 Sturbridgefair was the great mart for business, and resort for 
pleasure, in bishop Earle's day. It is alhided to in Randolph's Con- 
ceited Pedlar, 4to. 1630. 

" I am a pedlar, and I sell my ware 
This braue Saint Barthol. or Sturbridge faired 
Edward Ward, the facetious author of The London Spy, gives a 
whimsical account of a journey to Sturbridge, in the second volume 
of his works. 

113 This silly term of endearment appears to be derived from chick 
or my chicken. Shakspeare uses it in Macbeth, Act iii. Scene 2. 

" Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck."" 

18 



138 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

rids him again for fear of starving, and the best he 
makes of him is some gull in plush. He is one loves 
to hear the famous acts of citizens, whereof the gild- 
ing of the cross" ^ he counts the glory of this age, and 
the four''-^ prentices of London above all the nine'"' 



114 The great cross in West Cheap, was originally erected in 1290, 
by Edward I. in commemoration of the death of queen Ellinor, whose 
body rested at that place, on its journey from Ilerdeby, in Lincoln- 
shire, to Westminister, for interment. It was rebuilt in 1-141, and 
again in 14S4. In 1584, the images and ornaments were destroj'^ed 
by the populace ; and in 1509, the top of the cross was taken down, 
the timber being rotted within the lead, and fears being entertained 
as to its safety. By order of queen Elizabeth, and her privy council, 
it was repaired in 1000, when, says Stow, " a cross of timber was 
framed, set up, covered with lead, and glided,'''' &c. Stow's Survey 
0/ Za;i(/on, by Strype, book iii. p. 35. Edit, folio, Lond. 1720. 

115 This must allude to the play written by Hey wood with the 
following title : The Foure Prentises of London. With the Conquest 
of lenisalem. As it hath bene diverse times acted at the lied Bidl, 
by the queetie's Maiesties Servants. 4to. Lond. 1015. In this drama, the 
four prentises are Godfrey, Grey, Charles, and Eustace, sons to the 
old Earle of Bidlen, who, having lost his territories, by assisting Wil- 
liam the Conqueror in his descent upon England, is compelled to live 
like a private citizen in London, and binds his sons to a mercer, a 
goldsmith, a haberdasher, and a grocer. The four prentises, however, 
prefer the life of a soldier to that of a tradesman, and, quitting the 
service of their masters, follow Kobert of Normandy to the holy land, 
where they perform the most astonishing feats of valour, and finally 
accomplish the conquest of Jerusalem. The whole play abounds in 
bombast and impossibilities, and, as a composition, is unworthy of 
notice or remembrance. 

lie The history of the Nine Worthies of the World ; three whereof 
xcere Gentiles: 1. Hector, son of Pnamus, king of Troy. 2. Alex- 
ander the Great, king of Macedon, and conqueror of the world. 3. 
Julius Cmsar, first emperor of Borne. Three Jews. 4. Joshua, cap- 



A LASCIVIOUS MAN. 139 

worthies. He intitles himself to all the merits of 
his company, whether schools, hospitals, or exhibi- 
tions, in which he is joint benefactor, though four 
hundred jbrys ago, and upbraids them far more than 
those that gave them : yet with all this folly he has 
wit enough to get wealth, and in that a sufficieuter 
man than he that is wiser. 



LXVIII. 

A LASCIVIOUS MAN 

XS the servant he says of many mistresses, but all 
are but his lust, to which only he is faithful, and 
none besides, and spends his best blood and spirits 
in the service. His soul is the bawd to his body, 
and those that assist him in this nature the nearest 
to it. No man abuses more the name of love, or 
those whom he applies this name to ; for his love is 



tain general and leader of Israel into Canaan. 5. David^ king o 
Israel. 6. Judas Maccabeus, a valiant Jewish commander against 
the tyranny of Antiochus. Three Christians. 7. Arthur, king of 
Bntain, who courageously defended his country against the Saxons. 

8. Charles the Great, king of France and Emperor of Germany. 

9. Godfrey of Bullen, king of Jerusalem. Being an account of their 
glorious lives, ivorthy actions, renowned victories, and deaths. 12mo. 
No date. 



140 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

like his stomach to feed on what he loves, and the 
end of it to surfeit and loath, till a fresh appetite 
rekindle him ; and it kindles on any sooner than 
who deserve best of him. There is a great deal of 
malignity in this vice, for it loves still to spoil the 
best things, and a virgin sometimes rather than 
beauty, because the undoing here is greater, and 
consequently his glory. No man laughs more at 
his sin than he, or is so extremely tickled with the 
remembrance of it; and he is more violence to a 
modest ear than to her he defloured. A bawdy jest 
enters deep into him, and whatsoever you speak he 
will draw to baudry, and his wit is never so good as 
here. His unchastest part is his tongue, for that 
commits always what he must act seldomer ; and 
that commits with all which he acts with few ; for 
he is his own worst reporter, and men believe as bad 
of him, and yet do not believe him. Nothing 
harder to his persuasion than a chaste man, no 
eunuch ; and makes a scoffing miracle at it, if you 
tell him of a maid. And from this mistrust it is 
that such men fear marriage, or at least marry such 
as are of bodies to be trusted, to whom only they 
sell that lust which they buy of others, and make 



A RASH MAN. 141 

their wife the revenue to their mistress. They are 
men not easily reformed, because they are so little 
ill-persuaded of their illness, and have such pleas 
from man and nature. Besides it is a jeering and 
flouting vice, and apt to put jests on the reprover. 
The pox only converts them, and that only when it 
kills them. 

LXX. 

A RASH 31AN 

Ji.S a man too quick for himself; one whose actions 
put a leg still before his judgement, and out-run it. 
Every hot fancy or passion is the signal that sets 
him forward, and his reason comes still in the rear. 
One that has brain enough, but not patience to di- 
gest a business, and stay the leisure of a second 
thought. All deliberation is to him a kind of sloth 
and freezing of action, and it shall burn him rather 
than take cold. He is always resolved at first think- 
ing, and the ground he goes upon is, hop icliat may. 
Thus he enters not, but throws himself violently 
upon all things, and for the most part is as violently 
^ (upon all off again ; and as an obstinate " / icilV^ 



142 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

was the preface to liis undertaking, so his conclusion 
is commonly " / icoiild I had not ;" for such men 
seldom do any thing that they are not forced to take 
in pieces again, and are so much farther off from 
doing it, as they have done already. His friends are 
with him as his physician, sought to only in his 
sickness and extremity, and to help him out of that 
mire he has plunged himself into ; for in the sud- 
denness of his passions he would hear nothing, and 
now his ill success has allayed him he hears too 
late. He is a man still swayed with the first reports, 
and no man more in the power of a pick-thank 
than he. He is one who will fight first, and then 
expostulate, condemn first, and then examine. He 
loses his friend in a fit of quarrelling, and in a fit 
of kindness undoes himself; and then curses the 
occasion drew this mischief upon him, and cries, 
God mercy ! for it, and curses again. His repent- 
ance is meerly a rage against himself, and he does 
iUl^ something in it^self^ to be repented again. He is a 
man whom fortune must go against much to make 
him happy, for had he been suffered his own way, 
he had been undone. 



AN AFFECTED MAN. 143 

LXXI. 

AN AFFECTED MAN 

JLS an extraordinary man in ordinary things. One 
that would go a strain beyond himself, and is taken 
in it. A man that overdoes all thino-s with g-reat 
solemnity of circumstance ; and whereas with more 
negligence he might pass better, makes himself with 
a great deal of endeavour ridiculous. The fancy of 
some odd quaintnesses have put him clean beside 
his nature ; he cannot be that he would, and hath 
lost what he was. He is one must be point-blank 
in every trifle, as if his credit and opinion hung 
upon it ; the very space of his arms in an embrace 
studied before and premeditated, and the figure of 
his countenance of a fortnight's contriving ; he 
will not curse you without-book and extempore, but 
in some choice way, and perhaps as some great man 
curses. Every action of his cries, — "i)o ye mark 
me .^" and men do mark him how absurd he is : for 
aflPectation is the most betraying humour, and no- 
thing that puzzles a man less to find out than this. 
All the actions of his life are like so many things 



144 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

bodged in without any natural cadence or connec- 
tion at all. You shall track him all through like a 
school-boy's theme, one piece from one author and 
this from another, and join all in this general, that 
they are none of his own. You shall observe his 
mouth not made for that tone, nor his face for that 
simper; and it is his luck that his finest things 
most misbecome him. If he affect the gentle- 
man as the humour most commonly lies that 
way, not the least punctilio of a fine man, but 
he is strict in to a hair, even to their very negli- 
gences, which he cons as rules. He will not carry 
a knife with him to wound reputation, and pay 
double a reckoning, rather than ignobly question it : 
and he is full of this — ignobly — and nobly — 
and genteely ; — and this meer fear to trespass against 
the genteel way puts him out most of all. It is a 
humour runs through many things besides, but is an 
ill-favored ostentation in all, and thrives not : — and 
the best use of such men is, they are good parts in a 
play. 



A PROFANE MAN. 145 



LXXIL 



A PROFAXE 31 AX 

Is one that denies God as far as the law gives him 
leave ; that is, only does not say so in downright 
terms, for so far he may go. A man that does the 
greatest sins calmly, and as the ordinary actions of 
life, and as calmly discourses of it again. He will 
tell you his business is to break such a command- 
ment, and the breaking of the commandment shall 
tempt him to it. His words are but so many vomit- 
ings cast up to the loathsomeness of the hearers, 
only those of his company n ' loath it not. He will 
take upon him with oaths to pelt some tenderer man 
out of his company, and makes good sport at his con- 
quest over the puritan fool. The scripture supplies 
him for jests, and he reads it on purpose to be thus 
merry : he will prove you his sin out of the bible, 
and then ask if you will not take that authority. 
He never sees the church but of purpose to sleep in 
it, or when some silly man preaches, with whom he 



117 Those of the same habits with himself ; his associates 

19 



146 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

means to make sport, and is most jocund in the 
churcli. One that nick-names clergymen with all 
the terms of reproach, as " rat, hiack-coaf. '^ and 
the like ; which he will be sure to keep up, and 
never calls them by other : that sings psalms when 
he is drunk, and cries " God mercy " in mockery, 
for he must do it. lie is one seems to dare God in 
all his actions, but indeed would out-dare the opi- 
nion of him, which would else turn him desperate \ 
for atheism is the refuge of such sinners, whose re- 
pentance would be only to hang themselves. 

LXXIII. 

A COWARD 

is the man that is commonly most fierce against 
the coward, and labouring to take off this suspicion 
from himself; for the opinion of valour is a good 
protection to those that dare not use it. No man is 
valianter than he is in civil company, and where he 
thinks no danger may come on it, and is the readiest 
man to fall upon a drawer and those that must not 
strike again : wonderful exceptions and cholerick 
where he sees men are loth to give him occasion, 



A COWARD. 147 

and you cannot pacify him better than by quarrel- 
ing with him. The hotter you grow, the more tem- 
perate man is he ; he protests he always honoured 
you, and the more you rail upon him, the more he 
honours you, and you threaten him at last into a 
very honest quiet man. The sight of a sword 
wounds him more sensibly then the stroke, for be- 
fore that come he is dead already. Every man is 
his master that dare beat him, and every man dares 
that knows him. And he that dare do this is the 
only man can do much with him ; for his friend he 
cares not for, as a man that carries no such terror as 
his enemy, which for this cause only is more potent 
with him of the two : and men fall out with him of 
purpose to get courtesies from him, and be bribed 
again to a reconcilement. A man in whom no 
secret can be bound up, for the apprehension of each 
danger loosens him, and makes him bewray both the 
room and it. He is a christian mfeerly for fear of 
hell-fire; and if any religion could fright him more, 
would be of that. 



148 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

LXXIV. 

A SORDID RICH MAN 

XS a beggar of a fair estate, of whose wealth we 
may say as of other men's unthriftiuess, that it has 
brought him to this : when he had nothing he lived 
in another kind of fashion. He is a man whom 
men hate in his own behalf for using himself thus, 
and yet, being upon himself, it is but justice, for he 
deserves it. Every accession of a fresh heap bates 
him so much of his allowance, and brings him a de- 
gree nearer starving. His body had been long- 
since desperate, but for the reparation of other 
men's tables, where he hoards meats in his belly for 
a mouth, to maintain him in hunger so long. His 
clothes were never young in our memory 3 you might 
make long epochas from them, and put them into 
the almanack with the dear year "" and the great 



lis The dear year here, I believe, alhided to, was in 1574, and is 
thus described by that faithful aud valuable historian Holiushed:— 
" This yeare, about Lammas, wheat was sold at Loudon for three 
shillings the bushell : but shortlic after, it was raised to foure shil- 
lings, fiue shillings, six shilliugs, and, before Christmas, to a noble, 
and seuen shillings ; which so continued long after. Beefe was sold 



A SORDID RICH MAN. 149 

frost 1^^ and he is known by them longer than his 
face. He is one never gave alms in his life, and yet 
is as charitable to his neighbor as himself. He 
will redeem a penny with his reputation, and lose all 
his friends to boot ; and his reason is, he will not 
be undone. He never pays any thing but with 
strictness of law, for fear of which only he steals 
not. He loves to pay short a shilling or two in a 
great sum, and is glad to gain that when he can no 
more. He never sees friend but in a journey to save 
the charges of an inn, and then only is not sick ; 
and his friends never see him but to abuse him. 
He is a fellow indeed of a kind of frantick thrift, 
and one of the strangest things that wealth can work. 



for twentie pence, and two aud twentie pence the stone ; and all 
other flesh and white meats at an excessiue price ; all kind of salt 
fish verie deare, as fine herings two pence, &c. ; yet great plentie of 
fresh fish, and oft times the same verie cheape. Pease at foure shil- 
lings the bushell ; ote-meale at foure shillings eight pence ; bale salt 
at three shillings the bushell, &c. All this dearth notwithstanding, 
(thanks be given to God,) there was no want of anie thing to them that 
wanted not monie." Holinshed, Chronicle^ vol. 3, page 1259, a. edit, 
folio, 1587. 

119 Ou the 21st of December, 1564, began a frost referred to by- 
Fleming, in his index to Holinshed^ as the ^'- frost called the great 
frost,'" which lasted till the 3rd of January, 1565. It was so severe 
that the Thames was frozen over, and the passage on it, from Lon- 
don-bridge to Westmiuster, as easy as, and more frequented than 
that on dry land. 



150 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

LXXV. 
A MEER GREAT MAN 

XS so much heraldry without honour, himself less 
real than his title. His virtue is, that he was his 
father's son, and all the expectation of him to beget 
another. A man that lives meerly to preserve 
another's memory, and let us know who died so 
many years ago. One of just as much use as his 
images, only he differs in this, that he can speak 
himself, and save the fellow of Westminster ^^o a 
labour : and he remembers nothing better than what 
was out of his life. His grandfathers and their 
acts are his discourse, and he tells them with more 
glory than they did them ; and it is well they did 
enough, or else he had wanted matter. His other 
studies are his sports and those vices that are fit 
for great men. Every vanity of his has his officer, 
and is a serious employment for his servants. He 
talks loud and baudily, and scurvily as a part of 
state, and they hear him with reverence. All good 



120 The person wlio exhibits Westminster ahhey. 



A POOR MAN. 151 

qualities are below him, and especially learning, 
except some parcels of the chronicle and the writing 
of his name, which he learns to write not to be 
read. He is meerly of his servants' faction, and 
their instrument for their friends and enemies, and 
is always least thanked for his own courtesies. 
They that fool him most do most with him, and he 
little thinks how many laugh at him bare-head. No 
man is kept in ignorance more of himself and men, 
for he hears nought but flattery ; and what is fit to be 
spoken truth with so much preface that it loses 
itself. Thus he lives till his tomb be made ready, 
and is then a grave statue to posterity. 

LXXVI. 

A POOR MAN 

xS the most impotent man, though neither blind nor 
lame, as wanting the more necessary limbs of life, 
without which limbs are a burden. A man un- 
fenced and unsheltered from the gusts of the world, 
which blow all in upon him, like an unroofed house; 
and the bitterest thing he suffers is his neighbours. 
All men put on to him a kind of churlisher fashion, 



152 MICROCOSMOGRAPHT. 

and even more plansible natures are churlish to him, 
as who are nothing advantaged bv his opinion. 
Whom men fall out with before-hand to prevent 
friendship, and his friends too to prevent engage- 
ments, or if they own him 'tis in a private and a 
by-room, and on condition not to know them before 
company. All vice put together is not half so 
scandalous, nor sets off our acquaintance fiirther; 
and even those that are not friends for ends do not 
love any dearness with such men. The least courte- 
sies are upbraided to him, and himself thanked for 
none, but his best services suspected as handsome 
sharking and tricks to get money. And we shall 
observe it in knaves themselves, that your beggar- 
liest knaves are the greatest, or thought so at least, 
for those that have wit to thrive by it have art not 
to seem so. Now a poor man has not vizard enough 
to mask his vices, nor ornament enough to set forth 
his virtues, but both are naked and unhandsome ; and 
though no man is necessitated to more ill, yet no 
man's ill is less excused, but it is thought a kind 
of impudence in him to be vicious, and a presump- 
tion above his fortune. His good parts lye dead 
upon his hands, for want of matter to employ them. 



AN ORDINARY HONEST MAN. 153 

and at the best are not commended bnt pitied, as 
virtues ill placed, and we may say of him. - Tis an 
honest man. but tis pity;" and yet those that call 
him so will trust a knave before him. He is a man 
that has the truest speculation of the world, because 
all men show to him in their plainest and worst, as 
a man they have no plot on. by app»earing good to ; 
whereas rich men are entertained with a more holy- 
day behaviour, and see only the best we can dissem- 
ble. He is the only he that tries the true strength 
of wisdom, what it can do of itself without the help 
of fortune ; that with a great deal of virtue con- 
quers extremities, and with a great deal more his 
own impatience, and obtains of himself not to hate men . 

LXXYII. 

AX ORDIXARr HOXEST MAX 

XS one whom it concerns to be called honest, for if 
he were not this, he were nothing : and yet he ia 
not this neither, but a good dull vicious fellow, that 
complies well with the deboshments ^-' of the time, 



121 Minshew interprets the verb d^bo^f. " to corrupt, make lewde. 
vitiate." When the word was first adopted from the French Ian- 

20 



154 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

and is fit for it. One that lias no good part in him 
to offend his company, or make him to be suspected 
a proud fellow; but is sociably a dunce, and sociably a 
drinker. That does it fair and above-board without 
legermain, and neither sharks '--for a cup or a reckon- 
ing : that is kind over his beer, and protests he loves 
you, and begins to you again, and loves you again. One 
that quarrels with no man, but for not pledging him, 
but takes all absurdities and commits as many, and 
is no tell-tale next mornino;, thouij^h he remember it. 
One that will fight for his friend if he hear him 
abused, and his friend commonly is he that is most 
likely, and he lifts up many a jug in his defence. 
He rails against none but censurers, against whom 
he thinks he rails lawfully, and censurers are all 
those that are better than himself. These good 
properties qualify him for honesty enough, and raise 
him high in the aie-house commendation, who, if 
he had any other good quality, would be named by 



guage, (save Mr. Ste(fvens, in a note to the Tempest^) it appears to 
have been epelt according to the pronunciation, and therefore 
wrongly ; but ever since it has been spelt right, it has been uttered 
with equal impropriety. 

12-2 The verb to shark is frequently used by old writers, for to pi^ 
fer. and, as in the present instance, to sijonge. 



A SUSPICIOUS OR JEALOUS MAN. 155 

that. But now for refuge he is an honest man, and 
hereafter a sot: only those that commend him think 
him not so, and tliose that commend him are honest 
fellows. 

Lxxviir. 

A SUSPICIOUS OR JEALOUS MAN 

i-S one that watches himself a mischief, and keeps 
a lear eye still, for fear it should escape him. A 
man that sees a great deal more in every thing: than 
is to be seen, and yet he thinks he sees nothing: 
his own eye stands in his light. He is a fellow 
commonly guilty of some weaknesses, which he 
might conceal if he were careless : — now his over- 
diligence to hide them makes men pry the more. 
Howsoever he imagines you have found him, and it 
shall go hard but you mustabuse him whether you will 
or no. Not a word can be spoke, but nips him some- 
where; not a jest thrown out, but he will make it 
hit him. You shall have him go fretting out of 
company, with some twenty quarrels to every man, 
stung and galled, and no man knows less the occa- 
sion than they that have given it. To laugh before 



156 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

liim is a dangerous matter, for it cannot be at any 
thing but at liim, and to whisper in his company 
plain conspiracy. He bids you speak out, and he 
will answer you, when you thought not of him. He 
expostulates with you in passion, why you should 
abuse him, and explains to your ignorance wherein, 
and gives you very good reason at last to laugh at 
him hereafter. He is one still accusing others when 
they are not guilty, and defending himself when he 
is not accused : and no man is undone more with 
apologies, wherein he is so elaborately excessive, 
that none will believe him; and he is never thought 
worse of, than when he has given satisfaction. Such 
men can never have friends, becau.se they can- 
not trust so far ; and this humour hath this infection 
with it, it makes all men to them suspicious. In con- 
clusion, they are men always in offence and vexation 
with themselves and their neighbors, wronging 
others in thinking they would wrong them, and 
themselves most of all in thinking they deserve it. 

END OF THE CHARACTEKS. 



APPENDIX 



No. I. 
80MEACC0VNT OF BISHOP FARLE^ 

A.LL the biographical writers who have taken do- 
tice of John Earle agree in stating, that he was 
born in the city of York, although not one of them 
has given the exact date of his birth, or any intelli- 
gence relative to his family, or the rank in life of 
his parents.- It is, however, most probable, that 
they were persons of respectablility and fortune, as 



1 The following brief memoir pretends to be nothing more than an 
enumeration of such particulars relative to the excellent prelate, 
whose Characters are here otfered to the public, as could be gathered 
from the historical and biographical productions of the period in 
which he flourished. It is hoped that no material occurrence has 
been overlooked, or circumstance mis-stated; but should anj-^ errors 
appear to have escaped his observation, the editor will feel obliged 
by the friendly intimation of such persons as may be possessed of 
more copious information than he has been able to obtain, in order 
that they may be acknowledged and corrected in another place. 

2 He beareth ermine^ on a chief indented sahl^^ three eastern 
crowns or by the name of Earles. This coat wa ; gi-anted by Sir 
Edward Walker, garter, the Ist of August, IGGO, to the Eev. Dr. 
John Earles, son of Thomas Earles, gent, sometime Eegister of the 
Archbishop's Court at York. He was Dean of Westminster, and 



158 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

he was sent, at an early age, to Oxford, and entered 
as a commoner of Christ-church college,"^ where his 
conduct was so exemplary, his attention to his stu- 
dies so marked, and his general deportment and 
manner so pleasing, that he became a successful 
candidate at Merton college, and was admitted a 
probationary fellow on that foundation in 1620, 
being then, according to Wood,' about nineteen 
years of age. He took the degree of Master of 
Arts, July 10, 1624, and in 1631 served the office 
of Proctor of the university, about which time he 
was also appointed chaplain to Philip Earl of Pem- 
broke, then Chancellor of Oxford. 

During the earlier part of our author's life, he 
appears to have possessed considerable reputation as 
a poet, and to have been as remarkable for the plea- 
santry of his conversation, as for his learning, 
virtues, and piety. Wood ^ tells us that " his 



Clerk of the Closet to his Majesty King Charles the Second; and in 
the year 1663, made Bishop of Salisbury. 

Guillim's Heraldry, folio. Lond. 1724. p. 282. 
It is almost unnecessary to add that I was not aware of this grant, 
when I compiled the short account of Earle, and spoke of my ina- 
bility to give any information relative to his parents. 

3 He took the degree of Bachelor of Arts whilst a member of 
this society, July 8, 1619, and appears to have been always attached 
to it. In 1660 he gave twenty pounds towards repairing the cathe- 
dral and college. Wood. Hist, et Antiq. Univ. Oxon. lib. ii. p. 23. 

AAthence Oxon. ii. 365. 

5 Ibid. 



APPENDIX. 159 

younger years were adorned with oratory, poetry, 
and witty fancies, his elder with quaint preaching 
and subtile disputes." The only specimens of his 
poetry which can be recovered at this time, are three 
funeral tributes, which will be found in this Appen- 
dix, and of which two are now printed, I believe, 
for the first time. 

Soon after his appointment to be Lord Pembroke's 
chaplain, he was presented by that nobleman to the 
rectory of Bishopstone, in Wiltshire ; nor was this 
the only advantage he reaped from the friendship 
of his patron, who being at that time Lord Cham- 
berlain of the King's household,'^ was entitled to a 
lodging in the court for his chaplain, a circumstance 
which in all probability introduced Mr. Earle to the 
notice of the King, who promoted him to be chap- 
lain and tutor to Prince Charles, when Dr. Duppa, 
whe had previously discharged that important trust, 
was raised to the bishopric of Salisbury. 

In 1642 Earle took his degree of Doctor in 
Divinity, and in the year following was actually 
elected one of the Assembly of Divines appointed 
by the parliament to new model the church. This 
office, although it may be considered a proof of the 
high opinion even those of different sentiments 
from himself entertained of his character and merit, 



G Collins' Peerage, ill. 123. 



160 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

he refused to accept, when he saw that there was no 
probability of assisting the cause of religion, or of 
restraining the violence of a misguided faction, by 
an interference among those who were " declared 
and avowed enemies to the doctrine and discipline of 
the church of England ; some of them infamous in 
their lives and conversations, and most of them of 
very mean parts in learning, if not of scandalous 
ignorance.' 

On the 10th of February, 1643, Dr. Earle was 
elected chancellor of the cathedral of Salisbury,*" of 
which situation, as well as his living of Bishopstone, 
he was shortly after deprived by the ill success of 
the royal cause. •• 

When the defeat of the King's forces at Worces- 
ter compelled Charles the Second to fly his country, 
Earle attached himself to the fallen fortunes of his 
sovereign, and was among the first of those who 
saluted him upon his arrival at llouen in Normandy, 
where he was made clerk of the closet, and King's 



7 Clarendon. History of the Rebellion^ ii, 827. Edit. Oxford, 1807. 

8 Walker. Sufferings of the Clergy^ fol. 1714, part ii. page 03. 

9 During the early i)art of the civil wart*, and whilst puccess was 
doubtful on cither side, he appear^! to have lived in retirement, and 
to have employed himself in a translation of Hooker's Ecclesiastical 
Polity into Latin, which, however, was never made public. At the 
appearance of Charles the First's Euwv BaCjXuTj.he was desired 
by the King (Ch. II.) to execute the same task upon that production, 
which he performed with great ability. It was printed for distribu- 
tion on the continent in 1049. 



APPENDIX. 161 

chaplain. ^0 Nor was liis affection to the family of 
the Stuarts, and his devotion to their cause evinced 
by personal services only, as we find by a letter 
from Lord CMarendon to Dr. Barwick, that he as- 
sisted the King with money in his necessities. '^ 

During the time that Charles was in Scotland, 
Dr. Earle resided at Antwerp, with his friend Dr. 
Morley,^- from whence he was called upon to attend 
the Duke of Vork (afterwards James II.) at Paris, '^ 
in order that he miglit heal some of the breaches 
which were then existing between certain members 
of the duke's household ;i' and here it is probable 
he remained till the recal of Charles the Second to 
the throne of England. 

Upon the Restoration, Y'r. Earle received the re- 
ward of his constancy and loyalty, he was immedi- 
ately promoted to the deanery of Westminster, a situ- 
ation long designed for him by the King. ' ^ In 1661 
he was appointed one of the commissioners for a 



10 Wood, Ath. Oxon. ii. 30.5. 

11 Life of Dr. John Barwick, 8vo. Lond. 1724. p. 522. 

12 Dr. George Morley was chaplain to Charles the First, and canon 
of Chriirt Church, Oxford. At the Res^toration he was made, first 
dean of Christ Church, then bishop of Worcester, and lastly bishop 
of Winchester. He died at Farnham-castle, October 2it, 1084. See 
Wood. Athen. Oxon. ii. 581. 

13 Wood. Atheme, ii. 770. 

14 Clarendon's Rebellion, iii. 059. 

15 Life of Barwick, 452. 

21 



162 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

review of the Liturgy,!^' and on November 30, 1662, 
was consecrated Bishop of Worcester, from which 
^ee he was translated, September 28, 1663, to the 
dignity of Salisbury. 1'^ 

Little more remains to be added. — Bishop Earle 
apjDcars to have continued his residence with the 
royal family after the acquisition of his well-de- 
served honors ; and when the court retired to Oxford, 
during the plague in 1665, he attended their majes- 
ties to the place of his early education, and died at 
his apartments in University College, on the 17th 
of November. He was buried on the 25th, near 
the high altar, in Merton College chapel; and was, 
according to Wood, " accompanied to his grave, 
from the public schools, by an herald at arms, and 
the principal persons of the court and university." 
His monument, which stands at the north-east corner 
of the chapel, is still in excellent preservation, and 
possesses the following inscription : 

" Amice, si qiiis hie sepiiltns est, roges, 

Ille, qui ncc meruit unqua — Nee quod majus est, liabuit 

Inimieum ; 

Qui potuit in aula vivere, et mundum spernere 

Concionator educatus inter principes, 

Et ipse facile princeps inter Concionatores, 

Evangehsta indefessus, Episcopus pientissimus ; 



16 Kennet's Register^ folio, 1728, page 504. 

17 Wood. Athena, ii. 366. 



APPENDIX. It 

Ille qui una cum sacratissimo Rege, 

Cujus & juvenilium studioriim, et anim?e Deo charse 

Curam a beatissiino Patre clemanclatam gessit, 

Nobile ac Religiosum exilium est passus ; 

Ille qui Hookeri ingentis Politiam Ecclesiasticam, 

Ille qui Caroli Martyris EIKO'NA BASIAIKirN, 

(Volumen quo post Apocalypsin divinius nullum) 

Legavit Orbi sic Latine redditas, 

Ut uterque unius Fidei Defensor, 

Patriam adhuc retineat majestatem. 

Si nomen ejus necdum tibi suboleat, Lector, 

Nomen ejus ut unguenta pretiosa: 

Johannes Earle Eboracensis, 

Serenissimo Carolo 2^° Regij Oratorij Clericue, 

f aliquaudo Westmonasteriensis Decanus, 

delude Wigorniensis j 



Ecclesias 



I tandem Sarisburiensis ^ 
( et nunc triumphantis J 



Obiit Oxonij Novemb. 17" Anno \ ^°"^ ' ^^^^^^ 

( ^tatis suse G5to. 

Yoluitq. in hoc, ubi olim floruerat, CoUegio, 

Ex ^de Christi hue in Socium ascitus, 

Ver magnum, ut reflorescat, expectare.' 



No. II. 
CHARACTERS OF BISHOP EARLE. 
— " He was a person very notable for hi 



elegance in the Greek and Latin tongues ; and being 
fellow of Merton college in Oxford, and having been 
proctor of the university, and some very witty and 



164 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. ] 

sharp discourses being published in print without 
his consent, though known to be his, he grew sud- 
denly into a very general esteem with all men ; being 
a man of great piety and devotion ; a most eloquent 
and powerful preacher ; and of a conversation so plea- 
sant and delightful, so very innocent, and so very 
facetious, that no man's company was more desired, 
and more loved. No man was more negligent in his 
dress, and habit, and mein ; no man more wary and 
cultivated in his behaviour and discourse j insomuch 
as he had the greater advantage when he was known, 
by promising so little before he was known. He 
was an excellent poet both in Latin, Greek, and 
English, as appears by many pieces yet abroad ; 
though he suppressed many more himself, especially 
of English, incomparably good, out of an austerity 
to those sallies of his youth. He was very dear to 
the Lord Falkland, with whom he spent as much time 
as he could make his own ; and as that lord would 
impute the speedy progress he made in the Greek 
tongue to the information and assistance he had 
from Mr. Earles, so Mr. Earles would frequently pro- 
fess that he had got more useful learning by his 
conversation at Tew (the Lord Falkland's house,) 
than he had at Oxford. In the first settling of the 
prince his family, he was made one of his chaplains, 
and attended on him when he was forced to leave 
the kingdom. He was amongst the few excellent 



APPENDIX. 165 

men who never had, or never could have an enemy, 
but such a one who w\as an enemy to all learning 
and virtue, and therefore would never make himself 
known. '^ 

Lord Clarendon. Account of his own Life, 
folio, Oxford, 1759, p. 26. 



" This is that Dr. Earle, who from his 

youth (I had almost said from his childhood,) for 
his natural and acquired abilities was so very emi- 
nent in the university of Oxon; and after was chos- 
en to be one of the first chaplains to his Majesty 
(when Prince of Wales) : who knew not hovv" to 
desert his master, but with duty and loyalty (suita- 
ble to the rest of his many great virtues, both moral 
and intellectual,) faithfully attended his Majesty 
both at home and abroad, as chaplain, and clerk of 
his majesty's closet, and upon his majesty's happy 
return, was made Dean of Westminster, and now 
Lord Bishop of Worcester, (for which, December 7, 
he did homage to his Majesty,) having this high 
and rare felicity by his excellent and spotless con- 
versation, to have lived so many years in the court 
of England, so near his Majesty, and yet not given 
the least offence to any man alive ', though both in 
and out of the pulpit he used all Christian freedom 



166 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

against the vanities of this age, being honoured and 
admired by all who have either known, heard, or 
read him." 

White Kennett (Bishop of Peterborough) Re- 
gister and Chronicle Ecclesiastical and Civil^ 
folio. London, 1728, page 834. 



" Dr. Earle, now Lord Bishop of Salisbury, 

of whom I may justly say, (and let it not oflfend 
him, because it is such a truth as ought not to be 
concealed from posterity, or those that now live and 
yet know him not,) that, since Mr. Hooker died, 
none have lived whom God hath blessed with more 
innocent wisdom, more sanctified learning, or a more 
pious, peaceable, primitive temper : so that this 
excellent person seems to be only like himself, and 
our venerable Richard Hooker." 

Walton. Life of Mr. Richard Hooker^ 8vo. 
Oxford, 1805, i. 327. 



"This Dr. Earles, lately Lord Bishop of 

Salisbury. — A person certainly of the sweetest, most 
obliging nature that lived in our age." 

Hugh Cresset. E2nstle Apologetical to a Per- 
son of Honour (Lord Clarendon), 8vo. 1674, 
page 46. 



APPENDIX. 167 

" Dr. Earle, Bishop of Salisbury, was a 

man that could do good against evil ; forgive much, 
and of a charitable heart." 

Pierce. Conformht's Plea for Nonconformity . 
4to, 1681. page 174. 



No. III. 
LI8T OF DR. EARLKS WORKS. 

1. Microcosmorjraphj/, or a Piece of the World dis- 
covered^ in Essays and Characters. London. 1628. 
&c. &c. 12mo. 

2. Hooker s Ecclesiastical Polity, translated into 
Latin. This, says Wood, "is in MS. and not yet 
printed." In whose possession the MS. was does 
not appear, nor have I been able to trace it in the 
catalogue of any public or private collection. 

3. Hortas iMertonensis, a Latin Poem, of which 
Wood gives the first line " Hortus deiiciae domus 
politae." It is now supposed to be lost. 

4. Lines on the Death of /Sir John Burroughs; now 
printed for the first time. See Appendix, No. 
lY. 

5. Lines on the Death of Earl of Pembroke ; now 
printed for the first time. See Appendix, No. 
Y. 

6. Elegy upon Francis Beaumont ; first printed at 



168 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

the end o^ Beaumont's Poenis, London, 1640. 4to. 
See Ajipendix, No. VI. 
7- Eixojv BatfiXixTj, vel Imar/o Regis Caroli, In iUis 
sidis jErumnis et Solitacline. Hag f!e- Com it is. 
Typis S. B. &c. 1649. 12mo. See Appendix, No. 
VII.i^ 



18 Besides the pieces above noticed, several smaller poems vrere 
undoubtedly in circulation during Earlc's life, the titles of which are 
not preserved. Wood supposes {Ath. Oxon.) our author to have 
contributed to ''some of the Figrires of which about temv ere pub- 
lished,'''' but is iguorant of the exact numbers to be attributed to his 
pen. In the Bodleian * is " The Figrre of Fovre : mierein are 
stveet flowers, gathered out of that fndtfidl ground, that I hope will 
yeeld 2)leasure and profit to all sorts of people. The second Fart, 
London, Printed for John Wright, and are to bee sold at his shop 
without Newgate, at the signe of the Bible, 1636." This, hoM'ever, 
was undoubtedly one of Breton's productions, as his initials are af- 
fixed to the preface. It is in 12mo. and consists of twenty pages, not 
numbered. The following extracts will be sufficient to shew the 
nature of the volume. 

" There are foure persons not to be believed: a horse-courser 
when he sweares, a whore when shee wecpes, a lawyer when he 
pleads false, and a traveller when he tels wonders. 

"• There are foure great cyphers in the world: hee that is lame 
among dancers, dumbc among lawyers, dull among schoUers, and 
rude amongst courtiers. 

" Foure things grievously empty: a head without braines, a wit 
without judgment, a heart without honesty, and a purse M'ithout 
money." 

Ant. Wood possessed the. ^7^/?'e o/'«>, which, however, is now not 
to be found among his books left to the university of Oxford, and 
deposited in Ashraole's museum. That it once was there, is evident 
from the MS. catalogue of that curious collection. 

* 8vo. L. 78, Art. 



APPENDIX. 169 

No. IV. 
LIXES ON SIR JOHN B URR UGHS, 

KILLED BY A BULLET AT REEZ. ^^ 

[Frotn a MS. in the Bodleian.'] — {Rawl. Poet. 142.) 
Why did we thus expose thee ? what's now all 
That island to requite thy funeral ? 
Though thousand French in Diurder'd heaps do lie, 
It may revenge, it cannot satisfy : 
We must bewail our conquest when we see 
Our price too dear to buy a victory. 
He whose brave fire gave heat to all the rest, 
That dealt his spirit in t' each English breast, 
From whose divided virtues you may take 
So many captains out, and fully make 
Them each accomplish'd with those parts, the which. 
Jointly, did his well-furnish'd soul enrich. 
Not rashly valiant, nor yet fearful wise, 
His flame had counsel, and his fury, eyes. 
Not struck in courage at the drum's proud beat, 
Or made fierce only by the trumpet's heat — 
When e'en pale hearts above their pitch do fly. 
And, for a while do mad it valiantly. 



19 For an account of the unsuccespfnl expedition to the Isle of Re, 
under the command of the Duke of Buckingham, see Carte's History 
of Encjland., vol. iv. page 176, folio, Load. 1755. Sir John Burroughs, 
a general of considerable renown, who possessed the chief contidence 
of the Duke, fell in an endeavour to reconnoitre the works of the 
enemy, Aug. 1027. 

22 



170 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

His rage was tempered well, no fear could daunt 
His reason, his cold blood was valiant. 
Alas ! these vulgar praises injure thee; 
Which now a poet would as plenteously 
Give some brag-soldier, one that knew no more 
Than the fine scabbard and the scarf he wore. 
Fathers shall tell their children [this] was he, 
(And they hereafter to posterity,) 
Rank'd with those forces scourged France of old, 
Burrough's and Talbot's -^ names together told. 

J. Earles. 



No. V. 

ON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF 
PEMBROKE. 21 

{From the same MS.'\ 

Come, Pembroke lives ! Oh ! do not fright our ears 
With the destroying truth ! first raise our fears 
And say he is not well : that will suffice 
To force a river from the public eyes. 



20 Sir John Talbot, first earl of Shrewsbury, of whom see Collins' 
Peerage^ iii. 9. Holinshed, Rapin, Carte, &c. 

21 William, third Earl of Pembroke, son of Henry, Earl of Pem- 
broke, and Mary, sister to Sir Philip Sidney, was the elder brother of 
Earle's patron, and Chancellor of Oxford. He died at Baj^nard's 
castle, April 10, 1630. 



APPENDIX. 171 

Or, if he must be dead, oh ! let the news 

Speak in astonish'd whispers ] let it use 

Some phrase without a voice, and be so told, 

As if the laboring sense griev'd to unfold 

Its doubtfull woe. Could not the public zeal 

Conquer the Fates, and save your's ? Did the dart 

Of death, without a preface, pierce your heart? 

Welcome, sad weeds — but he that mourns for thee 

Must bring an eye that can weep elegy. 

A look that would save blacks : whose heavy grace 

Chides mirth, and bears a funeral in his face. 

Whose sighs are with such feeling sorrows blown, 

That all the air he draws returns a groan. 

Thou needst no gilded tomb — thy memory. 

Is marble to itself — the bravery 

Of jem or rich enamel is mis-spent — 

Thy noble corpse is its own monument ! 

Mr. Earles, Mertou. 



172 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

No. VI. 
ON 3IR. BE A UMONT. 

WRITTEN THIRTY YEARS SINCE, PRESENTLY AFTER HIS 
DEATH. 

[From " Comedies and Tragedies written by Francis Beaumont 
and John Fletcher, Gentlemen," folio. London. 1647.] 

Beaumont lies here : And where now shall we have 

A muse like his to sigh upon his grave ? 

Ah ! none to weep this with a worthy tear, 

But he that cannot, Beaumont that lies here. 

AVho now shall pay thy tomb with such averse 

As thou that lady's didst, fair Rutland's, herse.-- 

A monument that will then lasting be, 

When all her marble is more dust than she. 

In thee all's lost : a sudden dearth and want 

Hath seiz'd on writ, good epitaphs are scant. 

We dare not write thy elegy, whilst each fears 

He ne'er shall match that copy of thy tears. 

Scarce in an age a poet, and yet he 

Scarce lives the third part of his age to see, 

But quickly taken off and only known, 

Is in a minute shut as soon as shown. 

Why should weak Nature tire herself in vain 

In such a piece, to dash it straight again ? 

Why should she take such work beyond her skill, 

Which, when she cannot perfect, she must kill? 



22 Elegy on the Countess of Rutland. 



APPENDIX. 173 

Alas ! what is't to temper slime and mire ? 
But Nature's puzzled wlien she works in fire. 
Great brains (like brightest glass) crack straight, 

while those 
Of stone or wood hold out. and fear not blows ; 
And we their ancient hoary heads can see 
"Whose wit was never their mortality. 
Beaumont dies young, so Sidney did before, 
There was not poetry he could live to more, 
He could not grow up higher, I scarce know 
If th' art itself unto that pitch could grow, 
Were't not in thee that hadst arriv'd the height 
Of all that wit could reach, or nature might. 

when I read those excellent things of thine. 
Such strength, such sweetness couched in ev'ry line. 
Such life of fancy, such high choice of brain. 
Nought of the vulgar wit or borrow'd strain. 

Such passion, such expressions meet my eye. 

Such wit untainted with obscenity, 

And these so unafi'ectedly exprest, 

All in a language purely flowing drest. 

And all so born within thyself, thine own, 

So new, so fresh, so nothing trod upon : 

1 grieve not now that old 31enander' s vein 
Is ruin'd to survive in thee again ) 

Such, in his time, was he of the same piece, 
The smooth, even, nat'ral wit and love of Greece. 
Those few sententious fragments shew more worth. 



174 MICROCOSMOGKAPHY. 

Than all the poets Athens e'er brought forth ; 

And I am sorry we have lost those hours 

On them, whose quickness comes far short of ours, 

And dwell not more on thee, whose ev'ry page 

May be a pattern for their scene and stage. 

I will not yield thy works so mean a praise ; 

More pure, more chaste, more sainted than are plays ; 

Not with that dull supineness to be read, 

To pass a fire, or laugh an hour in bed. 

How do the Muses suffer every where, 

Taken in such mouth's censure, in such ears. 

That 'twixt a whiff, a line or two rehearse. 

And with their rheume together spaul a verse ? 

This all a poem's leisure after play. 

Drink, or tobacco, it may keep the day : 

Whilst ev'n their very idleness they think 

Is lost in these, that lose their time in drink. 

Pity then dull we, we that better know. 

Will a more serious hour on thee bestow. 

Why should not Beaumont in the morning please, 

As well as Flautus, Aristophanes ? 

Who, if my pen may as my thoughts be free. 

Were scurril wits and buffoons both to thee -, 

Yet these our learned of severest brow 

Will deign to look on, and to note them too, 

That will defy our own, 'tis English stuff, 

And th' author is not rotten long enough. 

Alas ! what phlegm are they compar'd to thee, 



APPENDIX. 175 

In thy Philaster^ and Maid's- Tragedy ? 

Where's such a humour as thy Bessus ? pray 

Let them put all their Thrasoes in one play, 

He shall out-bid them ; their conceit was poor, 

All in a circle of a bawd or whore ; 

A coz'ning dance ;-'^ take the fool away, 

And not a good jest extant in a play. 

Yet these are wits, because they'r old, and now 

Being Greek and Latin, they are learning too : 

But those their own times were content t' allow 

A thii'sty fame, and thine is lowest now. 

But thou shalt live, and, when thy name is grown 

Six ages older, shall be better known, 

When th' art of Chaucer's standing in the tomb. 

Thou shalt not share, but take up all his room. 

John Earle. 

No. VII. 
DEDICATION OF THE LATIN TRANSLATION 



" Serenissimo et Potentissimo Monarchae, Carolo 
Secundo, Dei Gratia Magnae Britannise, Francise 
et Hiberniae Regi, Fidei Defensori, &c. 



23 Qu, " Davus." See Andria of Terence. Theobald's correction. 
See Dyce's Beaumont and Fletcher. L. 



176 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Serenissime Rex, 
Prodeat jam sub tuis auspiciis ilia patris tui glo- 
riosissimi imago, ilia qua magis ad Dei similitudi- 
nem, quam qu^ Rex aut homo accedit. Prodeat vero 
eo colore peregrino, quo facta omnibus conspectior 
fiat publica. Ita enim tu voluisti, ut sic lingua 
omnium communi orbi traderem, in qua utinam feli- 
ciorem tibi operam navare licuisset, ut illam nativam 
elegantiam, illam vim verborum et lumina, illam ad- 
mirabilem sermonis structuram exprimerem. Quod 
cum fieri (fortasse nee a peritissimis) a me certe non 
possit, prsestat interim ut cum aliqua venustatis in- 
juria magnam partem Europae alloquatur, quam intra 
paucos sua3 gentis clausa apud caeteros omnes conti- 
cescat. Sunt enim hie velut qu^edam Dei magnaiia 
quse spargi expedit humano generi, et in omnium 
Unguis exaudiri : id pro mea facultate curavi, ut si 
non sensa tauti authoris ornate, at perspicue et fidd 
traderem, imo nee ab ipsa dictione et phrasi (quan- 
tum Latini idiomatis ratio permittit) vel minimum 
recederem, Sacri enim codicis religiosum esse decit 
interpretem : et certe proxime ab illo sacro et ado- 
rando codice, (qui in has comparationes non cadit,) 
spera non me audacem futurum, si dixero nullum 
inter cseteros mortalium, vel autore vel argumento 
illustriorem, vel in quo viva magis pietas et eximie 
Christiana spiratur. 

Habet vero sanctitas regia nescio quid ex fortunae 



APPENDIX. 177 

sues majestate sublimius quicldam et augustius, et 
quae imperium magis obtinet in mentes hominum, et 
revereiitia majore accipitur : quare et his maxime 
instriimentis usus est Dens, qui illam partem sacras 
paginae ad solennem Dei cultum pertinentem, psal- 
mos scilicet, et hymnos : caeteraque ejusraodi per- 
petuis ecclesias usibus inservitura, transinitterent 
liominibus, et auctoritatem quandam conciliarent. 
Quid quod libeutius etiam arripiunt homiues sic 
objectam et traditam pietatem. Quod et libro huic 
evenit, et erit magis eventurum, quo jam multo 
diffusior plures sui capaces invenerit. 

Magnum erat profecto sic meditari, sic scribere; 
multo majus sic vivere, sic mori : ut sit haec peue 
nimia dictu pietas exemplo illius superata. Scit 
haec ilia orbis pars miserrima jam et contamina- 
tissima. Utinam banc maturius intellexissent vir- 
tutem, quam jam sero laudaut, et admirantur amis- 
sam, nee ilia opus fuisset dirfi fornace, qua, tam 
eximia regis pietas exploraretur, ex qua nos tantum 
miseri f\icti sumus, ille omnium felicissimus; cujus 
ilia pars vitse novissima et asrumnosissima et supre- 
mus dies, (in quo hominibus, et angelis speetaculum 
factus stetit animo excelso et interrito, summum j&dei, 
constantiae patienti^ exemplar, superior malis suis, et 
tota simul conjesta inferni malitia) omnes omnium tri- 
umphos et quicquid est liumanae gloriee, superavit. 
Nihil egistis quot estis, hominum ! (sed nolo 

23 



178 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

libro sanctissimo quicquam tetrius pracfari, nee quos 
ille inter preces nominant, maledicere) nihil, iuquam, 
egistis hoc parricidio, nisi quod ftmiani illius et 
immortalitatem cum aeterno vestro probro et scelere 
conjunxistis. Nemo unquam ab orbe condito tot 
veris omnium lacrymis, tot sinceris hiudibus celebra- 
tus est. Nulli unquam priucipum in secundis agenti 
illos fictos plausus vel metus dedit, vel adulatio 
yendidit, quam hie verissimos expressere fuga, 
career, theatrum etilla omnium funestissimasecuris, 
qua obstupe, fecit hostes moriens et ceesus tri- 
umphavit. 

Tu interim (Rex augustissime) vera et viva patris, 
efl&gies, (cujus inter sum mas erat felicitates huma- 
nas, et in adversis solatium te genuisse, in quo 
superstite mori non potest) inflammeris maxime hoc 
mortis illius exemplo, non tam in vindictos cupidi- 
nem, (in quern alii te extimulent, non ego) quam in 
heroicte virtutis, et constantiee zelum : hanc vero 
primum adeas quam nulla vis tibi invito eripiet, 
hpereditariam pietatem ; et quo es in tuos omnes 
affectu maxime philostorgo, hunc librum eodem te- 
cum genitore satum amplectere ; die sapientise, soror 
mea es, et prudentiam aflfinem voca ; hanc tu con- 
sule, hanc frequens meditare, hanc imbibe penitus, 
et in auimam tuam transfuude. Videsin te omnium 
coujectos oculos, in te omnium bonorum spes sitas 
ex te omnium vitas pendere, quas jamdiu multi taedio 



APPENDIX. 179 

projecissent, nisi ut essent quas tibi impenderent. 
Magnum onus incumbit, magna urgent procella, mag- 
na expectatio, major omnium, quam quae unquam 
superius, virtutum necessitas : an sit regnum amplius 
in Britannia futurum, an religio, an homines, an 
Deus, ex tua virtute, tua fortuna dependet: immo, 
sola potius ex Deo fortuna ; cujus opem quo magis 
liic necessariam agnoscis, prsesentaneam requiris, eo 
magis magisque, (quod jam facis) omni pietatis offi- 
cio promerearis : et ilia quae in te large sparsit boni- 
tatis, prudentiae, temperantiae, justitige, et omnis 
regise virtutis semina foveas, augeas, et in fructum 
matures, ut tibi Deus placatus et propitius, quod de- 
traxit patri tuo felicitatis humange, tibi adjiciat, et 
omnes illius aerumuas conduplicatis in te beneficiis 
compenset, et appelleris ille restaurator, quem te 
unice optant omnes et sperant futurum, et ardentis- 
simis precibus expetit. 

Majestatistua3humillimus devotissimusque sub- 
ditus et sacellanus, 

Jo. Earles. 



180 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



No. VIIL 

INSCRIPTION ON DR. PETER IIEYLIN'S^^ MONU- 
MENT IN WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 

[written by dr. EARLE, then dean of WESTMINSTER.] 

Depositum Mortale 

Petri Heylyn, S. Th. D. 

Hujus Ecclesi^ Prebendarii et Subdecani, 

Viri plane memorabilis, 

Egregiis dotibus instructissimi, 

Ingenio aeri et foecundo, 

Judicio subacto, 

Memoria ad prodigium tenaci, 

Cui adjunxit incredibilem iu studiis patientiam, 

Quvo cessantibus oculis non cessarunt, 

Scripsit varia et plurima, 

Quae jam manibus hominum teruntur ; 

Et argumentis uon vulgaribus 

Stylo non vulgari suffecit. 



24 Peter Hej'lia was born at Bnrford, in Oxfordshire, Nov. 29,1599, 
and received the rudiments of his education at the free school in 
that place, from whence he removed to Harthall, and afterwards 
obtained a fellowship at Magdalen College, Oxford. By the interpo- 
sition of Bishop Laud, to whom he was recommended by Lord 
Dauvers, he was presented first to the rectory of Hemingtord, in Hunt- 
ingdonshire, then to a prebend of Westminster, and lastly to the 
rectory of Houghton in the Spring, in the diocese of Durham, which 
latter he exchanged for Alresford, in Hampshire. In 1633 he pro- 
ceeded D. D. and iu 1638, became rector of South Warnborough, 



APPENDIX. 181 

Et Majestatis Regise assertor 

Nee florentis magis utriusque 

Quarn afflictse, 

Idemque purduellium et scismaticse factionis 

Impugnator acerrimus. 

Contemptor invidiae 

Et animo infracto 

Plura ejusmodi meditanti 

Mors indixit silentium : 

Ut sileatur 

Efficere non potest. 

Obiit Anno ^tatis 63, et 8 die Maii, A. D. 1662. 

Possuit hoe illi maestissima conjux. 



Hampshire, by exchange with Mr. Atkinson, of St. John's College, 
for Islip, in Oxfordshire. In 1640 he was chosen clerk of the convo- 
cation for Westminster, and in 1042 followed the king to Oxford. 
After the death of Charles, he lost all his property, and removing 
with his family from place to place, subsisted by the exercise of his 
pen till the Restoration, when he regained his livings, and was made 
sub-dean of Westminster. His constancy and exertions were sup- 
posed by many to merit a higher reward, from a government, in 
whose defence he had sacrificed every prospect ; but the warmth of 
his temper, and his violence in dispute, were such as rendered his 
promotion to a higher dignity in the church impolitic in the opinion 
of the ministers. He died May 8, 1G02, and was interred in West- 
minster-abbey, under his own stall. A list of his numerous publi- 
cations, as well as a character of him, may be found in Wood's 
AtJience, Oxonienses^ ii. 2T5. 



182 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



No. IX. 

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR. EARLE 
AND MR. BAXTER. 

[See Kcunett's Register, folio, Loiul. 1723, page 713.] 

MR. BAXTER TO DR. EARLE. 

'' Reverend sir. 
"By the great favour of my lord chancellor's 
reprehension, I came to understand how long a time 
I have suffered in my reputation with my superiors 
by your misunderstanding me, and misinforming 
others; as if when I was to preach before the king, 
I had scornfully refused the tippet as a toy; when, 
as the Searcher and Judge of Hearts doth know, 
that I had no sucli thought or word. I was so ig- 
norant in those matters as to think that a tippet 
had been a proper ensign of a doctor of divinity, 
and I verily thought that you offered it me as such : 
and I had so much pride as to be somewhat ashamed 
when you offered it me, that I must tell you my 
want of such degrees ; and therefore gave you no 
answer to your first offer, but to your second was 
forced to say, "It belongeth not to me. Sir." And I 
said not to you any more ; nor had any other thought 
in my heart than with some shame to tell you that 
I bad no degrees, imagining I should have offended 



APPENDIX. 183 

otliers, and made myself the laughter or scorn of 
many, if I should have used that which did not 
belong to me. For I must profess that I had no 
more scruple to wear a tippet than a gown, or any 
comely garment. Sir, though this be one of the 
smallest of all the mistakes which of late I have 
turned to my wrong, and I must confess that my 
ignorance gave you the occasion, and I am far from 
imputing it to any ill will in you, having frequently 
heard, that in charity, and gentleness, and peaceable- 
ness of mind you are very eminent ; yet because I 
must not contemn my estimation with my superiors, 
I humbly crave that favour and justice of you, 
(which I am confident you will readily grant me,) 
as to acquaint those with the truth of this business, 
whom, upon mistake, you have misinformed, where- 
by in relieving the innocence of your brother, you 
will do a work of charity and justice, and therefore 
not displeasing unto God, and will much oblige, 
Sir, 

Your humble servant, 

Richard Baxter. 
June 20, 1G62. 

P. S. I have the more need of your justice in 
this case, because my distance denieth me access to 
those that have received these misreports, and be- 
cause any public vindication of myself, whatever is 



184 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

is said of me, is taken as an unsufferable crime, and 
therefore I am utterly incapable of vindicating my 
innocency, or remedying their mistakes. 

" To the reverend and much honoured Dr. Earles, 
Dean of Westminister, &c. These." 



DR. EARLE, IN REPLY. 

Ilcimpf on- Court, June 23. 
" Sir, 
" I received your letter, which I would have 
answered sooner, if the meessenger that brought it 
had returned. I must confess I was a little sur- 
prized with the beginning of it, as I was with your 
name; but when I read further I ceased to be so. 
Sir, I should be heartily sorry and ashamed to be 
guilty of any thing like malignity or uncharitable- 

ness, especially to one of yourcon- 
O that they were ... . , , , , r 

all such. — ^^ote by dition, With whom, though 1 concur 
Mr. Baxter. 

not perhaps in point of judgment in 

some particulars, yet I cannot but esteem for your 
personal worth and abilities ; and, indeed, your ex- 
pressions in your letter are so civil and ingenuous, 
that I am obliged thereby the more to give you all 
the satisfaction I can. 

As 1 remember, then, when you came to me to 
the closet, and I told you I would furnish you with 
a tippet, you answered me something to that purpose 



APPENDIX. 185 

as you write, but whether the same numerical words, 
or but once, I cannot possibly say from my own 
memory, and therefore I believe yours. Only this 
I am sure of, that I said to you at my second 
These word. I heard speaking, that some others of your 
s'kgVfroSm.-Ji^^ persuasion had not scrupled at it, 
hy Mr Baxter. which might suppose (if you had 

not affirmed the contrary), that you had made me a 
formal refusal ; of which giving me then no other 
reason than that " it belonged not to you," Icon- 
eluded that you were more scrupulous than others 
were. And, perhaps, the manner of your refusing 
it (as it appeared to me) might make me think you 
were not very well pleased with the motion. And 
this it is likely I might say, either to my lord chan- 
cellor or others; though seriously I do not remember 
that I spake to my lord chancellor at all concerning 
it. But, sir, since you gave me now that modest 
reason for it, (which, by the way, is no just reason 
in itself, for a tippet may be worn without a degree, 
though a hood cannot ) and it is no shame at all to 
want these formalities for him that wanteth not the 
substance,) but, sir, I say, since you give that reason 
for your refusal, I believe you, and shall correct 
that mistake in myself, and endeavor to rectify it 
in others, if any, upon this occasion, liave misunder- 
stood you. In the mean time I shall desire your 
charitable opinion of myself, which I shall be willing 
24 



186 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

to deserve upon any opportunity that is offered me 
to do you service, being, sir, 

Your very humble servant, 

Jo. Earles." 
" To my honoured friend, Mr. Richard Baxter, These." 

No. X. 

CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF BOOKS OF 
CHARACTERS. 

No. i. 

A Caueat 

for commen Cvr 

setors vvlgavely called 

Lagahones, set forth hy Thomas Harman. 

Esquier^for the vtilite and proffijt ofhys 

naturall Countrey. JVeiv/y agmented 

and Junfrinted Anno Doinini. 

M.D.LXUJj. 

^ Vewed^ examined^ and allowed^ according vnto the 
Queenes Maiestyes Liiunctions. 

[Roughly-executed wood-cut, of two persons receiv- 
ing punishment at the cart's tail from the hands 
of a beadle.] 

Im'printed 

at London in Fletestret at the signe of the 

Faulcon hy Wylliam Gry^th, and are to be 

solde at his shoppe in Saynt Dunstones 

Churche yarde in the West. 

[4to. black letter, containing thirty folios, very in- 
correctly numbered.] 



APPENDIX. 187 

I commence my list of Characters, with a volume, 
which, although earlier than the period I originally 
intended to begin from, is of sufficient curiosity and 
interest to warrant introduction, and, I trust, to 
obtain pardon from the reader for the additional 
trouble I am thus preparing for him. 

Mr. Warton, 'm his History of English Poetry, (iv, 
74.) has given, with some trifling errors, a transcript 
of the title, and says he has a faint remembrance 
of a Collection of Epigrams, by the author, printed 
about 1599 : these I have never been fortunate 
enough to meet with, nor do they appear in the 
collections of Ames or Herbert, neither of whom 
had seen a copy of the present work although they 
they mention Griffith's licence to print it as dated 
in 1566.'^5 

It is dedicated to Elizabeth, countess of Shrewsbury; 
Mr. Warton thinks " with singular impropriety, " 
although the motive appears at least to justify the 
measure, if it does not entitle the author to commen- 
dation. He addresses this noble lady as a person 
of extreme benevolence, and " as also aboundantly 
powrynge out dayly [her] ardent and bountifull 
chary tie vppon all such as commeth for reliefe." — 
" I thought it good," he continues, " necessary, and 
my bounden dutye, to acquaynte your goodnes with 



25 111 the epistle to the reader, the author terms it " this second 
impression." 



188 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

the abliominuble, wycked, and detestable behauor 
of all these rowsey, ragged rabblement of rake belles, 
that vnder the pretence of great misery, dpseases, 
and other innumerable calamites whiche they fayne 
through great hipocrisye, do wyn and gayne great 
almes in all places where they wyly wander." — On 
this account, therefore, and to preserve the kindness 
and liberality of the countess from imposition, Har- 
mau dedicates his book to that lady. 

The notorious characters mentioned, are a "ruf- 
fler ^ -> a upright man ;-' a hoker or angglear; -■" a 
roge ; -" a wylde roge ; '-^^ a prygger of prauncers ; a 



26 A rujler seems to have been a bully as well as a beggar, he is 
thus described in the Fraternitye of Vacabondes ; (see p. 256.) "A 
ruffeler goeth wyth a weapon to seeke seruice, saying he hath bene 
a seruitor in the wars, and beggeth for his reliefe. But his chiefest 
trade is to robbe poore wayfaring men and market-women." In 
Neiv Costume a morality, 1573, Creweltie, one of the characters, is 
termed a riiffler. See also Decker's Belman of London. Sign. 
C. iv. 

27 " An vpright man is one that goeth Avyth the trunchion of a 
staffe, which sfafle they cal a Flitchma. This man is of so much 
authority, that meeting with any of his profession, he may cal them 
to accompt, and comaund a share or snap vnto himselfe of al that 
they have gained by their trade in one moneth." Fraternitye of 
Vacabondes. 

28 This worthy character approaches somewhat near to a shop- 
lifter. Decker tells us that " their apparelc in which thej' walke is 
commonly freize jerkins and gall j^e slops." Belman. Sign. C. iv. 

29 A rogue, says Burton, in his MS. notes to Decker's Belman of 
London, " is not so stoute and [hardy] as the\T)right man. 

30 A person Avhose parents were rogues. 



APPENDIX. 189 

pallyarde ; '^i a frater ; ■^~ a Abraham man ; '^'^ a fresh 
water mariner, or whipiacke ; a counterfet cranke ; -^^ 
a dommerar : ^^ a dronken tinckar ; ■'^*^ a swadder or 
pedlar; a jarke man, and a patrico ; '^^ a demaunder 
for glymmar ; ^'^ a bawdy basket ; -^'^ a antem morte ; ^^ 
a walking morte ; a doxe ; a dell ; a kynchin morte ; 
and a kynchen co/' 

From such a list, several instances of the tricks. 



31 "These be called also clapperdogens,'''' and "go with patched 
clokes." Sign. C, iv. 

32 A Frater and a Whi2)k(cke, are persons who travel with a 
counterfeite license, the latter in the dress of a sailor. See Fra- 
ter nitye, Belman, &c. 

33 "An Abraham-man is he that walketh bare-armed, and bare- 
legged, and fayneth hymselfe mad, and caryeth a packe of woole 
or a stycke with baken on it, or such lyke toy, and nameth himselfe 
Poore Tom." FraternUye of Vacabondes. 

34 A person who asks charity, and feigns sickness and disease. 

35 One who pretends to be dumb. In Harman's time they were 
chiefly Welsh-men. 

36 An artificer who mends one hole, and makes twenty. 

37 AjarTce man can read and write, and sometimes understands a 
little Latin. A patrico solemnizes their marriages. 

38 These are commonly women who ask assistance, feigning that 
they have lost their property by fire. 

39 A woman who cohabits with an upright man, and professes to 
sell thread, «&c. 

40 " These antem mortes be maried wemen, as there be but 
fewe : for antem, in their language is a churche — " &c. Harman. 
Sign. E. iv. A loalking morte is one unmarried : a doxe, a dell, 
and a kynchin morte, are all females ; and a kynchen co is a young 
boy not thoroughly instructed in the art oi canting scnCi prigging. 



190 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

as well as specimens of the language of tlie thieves 
of the day, might with ease be extracted, did not 
the limits of my little volume compel me to refrain 
from entering at large into this history of rogues ; 
a restriction I the more regret, from its containing 
several passages illustrating the manners of that 
period, and which would be found of material use 
towards explaining many of the allusions met with 
in our early English dramas, and now but imper- 
fectly understood. 
" T A Prygger of Prauncers. (Sign. C. iii. b.) 
" A prigger of Prauncers be horse stealers, for 
to prigge signifieth in their language to steale, and 
a prauncer is a horse, so beinge put together, the 
matter is plaine. These go commonly in jerkins of 
leather or of white frese, & carry little wandes in 
their hands, and will walke through grounds and 
pasturs, to search and se horses mete for their 
purpose. And if thei chaunce to be met and asked 
by the owners of the grounde what they make there, 
they fayne straighte that they have loste theyr 
waye, and desyre to be enstructed the beste way to 
suche a place. These will also repayre to gentle- 
mens houses, and aske theyr cha^'itye, and will offer 
theyr seruice. And if you aske them what they 
can doe, they wil saye that they can kepe two or 
three geldinges, and waite vppon a gentleman. 
These haue also theyr women that, walkinge from 



APPENDIX. 191 

them in other places, marke where and what they see 
abrode, and sheweth these priggars therof, when 
they meete, whych is wythin a weeke or two. And 
loke, where they steale any thynge, they conuey the 
same at the leaste three score miles of, or more. 
There was a gentleman, a verye friende of myne, 
rydynge from London homewarde into Kente, hau- 
inge within three myles of his house busynesse, 
alyghted of his horse, and hys man also, in a pretye 
village, where diners houses were, and looked about 
hym where he myghte haue a conuenyent person 
to walke his horse, because he would speak w^ a 
farmer that dwelte on the backe side of the sayde 
village, little aboue a quarter of a myle from the 
place where he lighted, and had his man to waight 
vpon hym, as it was mete for his callynge : espieng 
a priggar there standing, thinkinge the same to dwel 
there, charging this prity prigginge person to walke 
his horse well, and that they might not stande still 
for takynge of colde, and at his returne (which he 
saide should not be longe,) he would geue him a 
peny to drinke, and so wente about his busines. 
Thys peltinge priggar, proude of his praye, walketh 
hys horses vp and downe, till he sawe the gentleman 
out of sighte, and leapes him into the saddell, and 
awaye he goeth a mayne. This gentleman return- 
ing, and findyng not his horses, sente his man to 
the one ende of the village, & he went himselfe vnto 



192 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

the other ende, and enquired as he went for hys 
horses that were walked, and began somewhat to 
suspecte, because neither he nor his man coulde ney- 
ther see nor fynde him. Then this gentleman dili- 
gently enquired of three or foure towne dwellers 
there whether any such person, declaring his stature, 
age, apparel, and so manye linamentes of his body 
as he coulde call to remembraunce. And vna voce, 
all sayde that no such man dwelte in their streate, 
neither in the parish that they knewe of, but some 
did wel remember that suche a one they sawe there 
lyrkinge and huggeringe^i two houres before the 
gentleman came thether and a straunger to them. 
J had thought, quoth this gentleman, he had here 
dwelled, and marched home mannerly in his botes ; 
farre from the place he dwelt not. J suppose at 
his comming home he sente such wayes as he sus- 
pected or thought mete to search for this prigger, 
but hetherto he neuer harde any tidinges agaiue of 
his palfreys. J had the best gelding stolen out of 
my pasture that J had amogst others, while this 
booke was first a printing." 

At the end of the several characters, the author 
c:ives a list of the names of the most notorious 



41 In Florio's Italian Dictionary, the word dinascoso is explained 
" secretly, hiddenly, in hugger-mugger.'''' See also Reed's Sliak- 
speare, xviii. 284. Old Plays, 1T80. viii. 48. 



APPENDIX. 193 

thieves of his day, a collection of the cant phrases 
used by them, with their significations ; and a dia- 
logue between an iiprigJife man and a ro(/e^ which I 
shall transcribe : — 

" The vpright Cofe canteth to the Roger. 

The fjji'igJite man spaketh to the roge. 

3Ian. Bene lyghtmans to thy quarromes in what 
lipke hast thou lipped in this darkemanes ; whether 
in a lybbege or in the struramell ? 

God morrowe to thy hodye, in what house hast 
thou lyne in all night whether in a hed^ or in the strawe ? 

Roge. J couched a hogeshed in a skypper this 
darkemans. 

1 laye me down to sleepe in a barne this night. 

Man. J towre y^ strummell tryne vpon thy nab- 
cher & togman. 

I see the straw hange vpon thy cap and coate. 

Roge. J saye by the Salomon J wyll lage it of 
with a gage of bene house then cut to my nose watch. 

J swcare by the masse J wyll wash it of loith a 
quart of drinhe then saye to me what thou wilt. 

Man. Why, hast thou any lowre in thy bouge 
to bouse ? 

Wliy, hast thou any money in tliy purse to drinke ? 

Roge. But a flagge, a wyn, and a make. 

But a grot., a penny., and a halfe-penny. 

Man. Why where is the kene that hath the 
bene bouse ? 

25 



194 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

TF/iere is the liouse that halh the good drinhe ? 

Roge. K bene mort hereby at the signe of the 
prauncer. 

A good icy fe here hy at the signe of the hors. 

Man. J cutt it is quyer buose J bousd a flagge 
the laste darkemans. 

J saye it is small and naiightye drynke, J dranhe 
a groate there the last night. 

Roge. But bouse there a bord, and thou shalt 
haue beneship. 

But drinhe there a shyllinge, and thou shcdt haue 
very good. 

Tower ye, yander is the kene, dup the gygger, 
and maund that is beneshype. 

Se you, yonder is the house, open the doore, and 
aske/or the best. 

Man. This bouse is as benshyp as rome bouse. 

This drinhe is as good as wyne. 

Now J tower that bene bouse makes nase nabes. 

Now J se that good drynJce maJces a dronhen 
heade. 

Maunde of thismorte whatbene peckeisin her ken. 

Ashe of this wyfe lohat good meate shee hath in 
her house. 

Roge. She hath a eacling chete, a grunting chete, 
ruff pecke, cassan, and popp^arr of yarum. 

She hath a hen, a pyg, hahen, chese, and mylhe 
porrage. 



APPENDIX. 195 

Man. That is beneshyp to oure watche. 

That is very good for vs. 

Now we liaue well bouscl, let vs strike some cliete. 

JSfow loe haiie loell dronhe^ let vs steale some tliinge. 

Yonder dwelleth a quyere cuffen it were bene- 
shype to myll bym. 

Yonher dwelleth a hoggeshe and choyrlyshe man 
it weave very well donne to rohbe him. 

Roge. Nowe, bynge we a waste to the hygh pad, 
the ruflfmanes is by. 

Naye let vs go hence to the hygh icaye^ the wodes 
is at hande. 

Man. So may we happen on the harmanes and 
cly the jarke, or to the qiiyer ken and skower quy- 
aer cramp-rings and so to tryning on the chates. 

So ive maye chaunce to net in the stockes, eyther 
be whypped^ eyther had to prison-house., and there he 
shackeled icith holttes and fetters^ and then to hange 
on the gallowes. 

\_Rogue.~\ Gerry gan the ruffian clye thee. 

A corde in thy mouth, the deuylltake thee. 

Man. What ! stowe you bene cofe and cut benar 
whydds ; and byng we to some vyle to nyp a bong, 
so shall we haue lowre for the bousing ken and 
when we byng back to the deuseauyel, we wyll 
fylche some duddes of the ruffemans, or myll the 
ken for a lagge of dudes. 

What ! holde your peace, good fello ice, and speake 



196 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

better worcles ; and go ice to London to cut a purse^ 
then shal ne heme inoney for the ale-house^ and when 
we come hacke agayne info the countrey^ we icyll 
steale some Jynnen clothes of one hedges, or robhe 
some house /or a hucke of clothes.^' 

I have been induced, from the curiosity and rarity 
of this tract, to extend my account of it farther, 
perhaps, than many of my readers may think reason- 
able, and shall, therefore, only add a specimen of 
Harman's poetry, with which the original terminates. 

" Jg@^ Thus J conclude my bolde beggar's booke, 

That all estates most playnely maye see; 

As in a glasse well pollyshed to looke, 

Their double demeaner in eche degree ; 

Their lyues, their language, their names as they be ; 

That with this warning their myndes may be warme i 

To amende their mysdeedes, and so lyue vnharmed." 

Another tract of the same description is noticed 
in Herbert's Ames (p. 885.) as printed so early as 
in 1565. A copy of the second edition in the 
Bodleian Library, possesses the following title : — 
" The Fraternitye of Uacahondes. As icel of ruf- 
lyng Vacahondes, as of beggerly, of icomen as of men, 
of gyrles as of boyes, iclth their j^^'oper names and 
qualities. With a description of the crafty company 
of Cousoners and Shifters. Whereunto also is ad- 
ioyned the xxv orders of Knaues, otherwyse called 
a Quartern of Knaues. Confirmed for euer by 



APPENDIX. 197 

Coche Lorell,^- &c. Imjjrintecl atLondon hy lohn 
Awdeley^ dn-eUyng in little Britayne streete icitJiout 
Aldersgate. 1575/' This, althougli mucli shorter 
than Harman's, contains nearly the same characters, 
and is therefore thus briefly dismissed. An account 
of it, drawn up by the editor of the present volume, 
may be found in Brydges' British Bihliographer ^ 
vol. ii. p. 12. 

It may not be amiss to notice in this place, that a 
considerable part of llie Belman of London, hring- 
ing to light the most noton'ous villanies that are noio 
jyractised in the kingdom, c&c. 4to. 1608, is derived 
from Harman's Caveat. Among the books be- 
queathed to the Bodleian, by Burton, (4to. G. 8. Art. 
BS.) is a copy of the Belman, with the several pas- 
sages so borrowed, marked in the hand-writing of 
the author of the Anatomy of Melancholy, who has 
also copied the canting dialogue just given, and 
added several notes of his own on the maro-in. 



ii, Ficture of a Puritane^Svo.lQOD. [Dr. Farmer's 
Sale Catalogue, page 153, No. 3709.] 



42 Herbert notices Cock Lorelles Bote, which he describes to be a 
satire in verse, in which the author enumerates all the most common 
trades and callings then in being. It was printed, in black letter, 
Wyukende Worde, 4to. without date. History of Printing, ii. 224, 
and Percy's Reliques, i. LST. edit. 1794. 



198 MICEOCOSMOGRAPHY. 

iii. '' A Wife now the Widdow of Sir Thomas 
Overbvrye. Being a most ex.quisite and singu- 
lar- Poem of the Choice of a Wife. Wherevnto 
are added many witty Characters^ and conceited 
Meives, written hy himself and other learned 
Gentlemen his friends. 

Dignum laude vii'um musa vetat mori, 
Cselo musa beat. Hor. Car. lib. 3. 

London Printed for Lawrence Lisle, and are, to 
hee sold at his shop in Panics Church-yard^ at the 
siyne of the Tiger^s head. 1614." ^-^ 

[4to. pp. 61, not numbered.] 

Of Sir Thomas Overbury's life, and unhappy end, 
we have so full an account in the Biographia, and 
the various historical productions, treating of the 
period in which he lived, that nothing further will 
be expected in this place. His Wife and Chnracters 
were printed, says Wood, several times during his 
life, and the edition above noticed, was supposed, by 



43 In 1614 appeared The Hmbancl, a Poeme, expressed in a com- 
pleat man. See Censiira Liieraria., v. 365. John Davies, of Here- 
ford, wrote A Select Second Hvsband for Sir Thomas Overbvries 
Wife, noiv a matchlesse widoiv. 8vo. Lond. 1616. And in 1673 was 
published, The Illustrious Wife, viz. That excellent Poem, Sir Tho- 
mas Overbvries Wife, illustrated by Giles Oldisworth, Neiiheio to the 
same Sir T. 0. 



APPENDIX. 199 

the Oxford biographer, to be the fourth or fifth. 'i^ 
Having never seen a copy of the early editions, I am 
unable to fix on any character undoubtedly the pro- 
duction of Overbury, and the printer confesses some 
of them were written by " other learned gentlemen/' 
These were greatly encreased in subsequent impres- 
sions, that of 1614 having only twenty-one cha- 
racters, and that in 1622 containing no less than 
eighty. 

A COURTIER, — (^Sign. C. 4. h.') 

To all men's thinking is a man, and to most men 
the finest: all things else are defined by the under- 
standing, but this by the sences; but his surest 
marke is, that hee is to bee found onely about 
princes. Hee smells ; and putteth away much of his 
judgement about the scituation of his clothes. Hee 
knowes no man that is not generally knowne. His 
wit, like the marigold, openeth with the sunne,. and 
therefore he riseth not before ten of the clocke. 



44 It was most probably the fifth, as Mr. Capel, who has printed 
the Wife, in his very curious vohime, entitled Prolimons, 8vo. Lond. 
1760, notices two copies in 1614, one in Svo. Avhich I suppose to be 
the third, and one in 4to. stated in the title to be the fourth edition : 
the sixth was in the following year, 1G15 ; the seventh, eight, and 
ninth were in 1616, the eleventh in 1622, twelfth in 1627, thirteenth 
162S, fourteenth, 1630, fifteenth, 1632, sixteenth, 1638, and Mr. 
Brand possessed a copy, the specific edition of which I am unable to 
state, printed in 1655. Catalogue, No. 4927. 



200 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Hee puts more confidence in his words than mean- 
ing, and more in his pronuntiation than his words. 
Occasion is his Cupid, and hee hath but one receipt 
of making loue. Hee followes nothing but incon- 
stancie, admires nothing but beauty, honours nothing 
but fortune. Loues nothing. The sustenance of 
his discourse is newes, and his censure like a shot 
depends vpon the charging. Hee is not, if he be 
out of court, but, fish-like, breathes destruction, if 
out of his owne element. Neither his motion, or 
aspect are regular, but he mooues by the vpper 
spheres, and is the reflexion of higher substances. 
If you finde him not heere, you shall in Paules 
with a pick-tooth in his hat, a cape cloke, and a 
long stocking. 



iv. " Sati/rical Essai/es, Cliaracters, and others, 
or accurate and quick Descriptions, fitted to the 
■ life of their Suhiects. tojv y^Srwv (5/^ (puXar]c:^a» 
[koKKov hi rj Touf ^X^^^' Theophras. 
Aspice et hsec, si forte aliquid decociius audis, 
Jude vaporata Lector mihiferucat aure. luuen. 
Plagosus minime Plagiarhis. 

John Stephens. London, Printed hy Nicholas 
Okes, and are to he sold hy Roger Barnes, at his 
Shop in St. Dunstane's Church-yard. 1G15." 
[8vo. pp. 321. title, preface, &c. 14 more.] 



APPENDIX. 201 

In a subsequent impression of this volume, 8vo. 
in the same year, and with a fresh title page, dated 
1631,^-5 we find the author to be -'John Stephens 
the younger, of Lincoln's Inn :" no other particulars 
of him appear to exist at present, excepting that he 
was the author of a play entitled, Ginthias Revenge; 
or, Msenanders Extasie. Lond. for Barnes, 1613, 
4to. " which," says Langbaine, " is one of the 
longest plays I ever read, and withal the most 
tedious/^ Ben Jonson addressed some lines^*^ to 
the author, whom he calls " his much and worthily 
esteemed friend," as did F. C, Gr. Rogers, and 
Thomas Danet. 

Stephens dedicates his book to Thomas Turner, 
Esq. For the sake of a little variety I give one 



45 Coxeter, in his MSS. notes to Gildon's Lives of the Eng. Dram. 
Poets., in the Bodleian, says that the second edition was in 8vo. 
1613, '■'■Essays and Characters., Ironical and Instructite^'''' but this 
must be a mistake. 

46 " Who takes thy volume to his vertuous hand, 
Must be intended still to vnderstand : 
Who bluntly doth but looke vpon the same, 
May aske, ichat axithor woxdd conceale his name ? 
Who reads may roaue, and call the passage darke. 
Yet may as blind men, sometimes hit the marke. 
Who reads, who roaues, who hopes to \Tiderstand, 
May take thy volume to his vertuous hand. 
Who cannot reade, but onely doth desire 
To vnderstand, hee may at length admire. 

B. I. ' 

26 



202 MICROCOSMOGRAPHT. 

of his " three satyricall Essayes on Cowardliuesse/ 
which are written in verse. 



ESSAY I. 

'' Feare to resist good virtue's common foe, 

And feare to loose some lucre, which doth grow 

By a continued practise ; makes our fate 

Banish (with single combates) all the hate, 

Which broad abuses challenge of our spleene. 

For who in Yertue's troope was euer scene. 

That did couragiously with mischiefes fight, 

Without the publicke name of hipocrite ? 

A^aine-glorious, malapert, precise, deuout. 

Be tearmes which threaten those that go about 

To stand in opposition of our times 

With true defiance, or satyricke rimes. 

Cowards they be, branded among the worst. 

Who (through contempt of Atheisme), neuer durst 

Crowd neere a great man's elbow to suggest 

Smooth tales with glosse, or Enuy well addrest. 

These be the noted cowards of our age ; 

Who be not able to instruct the stage 

With matter of new shamelesse impudence : 

Who cannot almost laugh at innocence ; 

And purchase high preferment by the waies. 

Which had bene horrible in Nero's dayes. 



APPENDIX. 203 

They are the shamefull cowards, who contemne 

Vices of sttite, or cannot flatter them ; 

Who can refuse advantage, or deny 

Villanous courses, if they can espye 

Some little purchase to inrich their chest 

Though they become vu comfortably blest. 

We still account those cowards, who forbeare 

(Being possess'd with a religious feare) 

To slip occasion, when they might erect 

Homes on a tradesman's noddle, or neglect 

The violation of a virgin's bed 

With promise to requite her maiden-head. 

Basely low-minded we esteeme that man 

AVho cannot swagger well, or (if he can) 

Who doth not with implacable desire. 

Follow revenge with a consuming fire. 

Extortions rascals, when they are alone, 

Bethinke how closely they have pick'd each bone, 

Nay, with a frolicke humour, they will brag. 

How blancke they left their empty client's bag. 

Which dealings if they did not giue delight, 

Or not refresh their meetings in despight, 

They would accounted be both weake, vnwise. 

And, like a timorous coward, too precise. 

Your handsome-bodied youth (whose comely face 

May challenge all the store of Nature's grace,) 

If, when a lustful! lady doth inuite. 

By some lasciuious trickes his deere delight, 



204 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

If then he doth abhorre such wanton ioy ; 

Whose is not almost ready to destroy 

Ciuility with curses, when he heares 

The tale recited ? blaming much his years, 

Or modest weaknesse, and with cheeks ful-blown 

Each man will wish the case had beene his own. 

Graue holy men, whose habite will imply 

Nothing but honest zeale, or sanctity, 

Nay so vprighteous will their actions seeme 

As you their thoughts religion will esteeme. 

Yet these all-sacred men, who daily giue 

Such vowes, wold think themselves vnfit to liue, 

If they were artlesse in the flattering vice, 

Euen as it were a daily sacrifice : 

Children deceiue their parents with expence : 

Charity layes aside her conscience, 

And lookes vpon the fraile commodity 

Of monstrous bargaines with a couetous eye : 

And now the name of generosity^ 

O^nohle cariage or hraue dignity^ 

Keepe such a common skirmish in our bloud, 

As we direct the measure of things good, 

By that, which reputation of estate, 

Glory of rumor, or the present rate 

Of sauing pollicy doth best admit. 

We do employ materials of wit. 

Knowledge, occasion, labour, dignity, 

Among our spirits of audacity, 



APPENDIX. 205 

Nor in our gainefull proiects do we care 

For what is pious, but for what we dare. 

Good humble men, who haue sincerely layd 

Saluation for their hope, we call afraid 

But if you will vouchsafe a patient eare, 

You shall perceiue, men impious haue most feare." 

The second edition possesses the following title — 
" New Essay es and Characters^ loitli a neio Satyr e 
in defence of the Common Law^ and Lawyers : mixt 
loith reproof e against their Enemy Ignoramus, &c. 
London, 16B1." It seems not improbable that some 
person had attacked Stephens's first edition, although 
I am unable to discover the publication alluded to. 
I suspect him to be the editor of, or one of the con- 
tributors to, the later copies of Sir Thomas Over- 
bury's Wife, &c. : since one of Stephens's friends, 
(a Mr, I. Cocke) in a poetical address prefixed to 
his New Essayes, says "I am heere enforced to 
claime 3 characters following the Wife ;^7 viz., the 
Tinker, the Ajjparatour, and Almanac-maker, that 
I may signify the ridiculous and bold dealing of an 
vnknowne botcher ; but I neede make no question 
what he is ; for his hackney similitudes discouer 
him to be the rayler above-mentioned, whosoeuer 
that rayler be." 



47 These were added to the sixth edition of the Wife, in 1615. 



206 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

V. Caracfers upon Ussaies, morall and dim'ne, lorit- 
ten for tJiose good spirits that will take them in 
good part ^ and make use of them to good pur- 
pose. London : Printed hy Edw. Gri^n for 
John Guillim and are to he sold at his shop in 
Britaines Burse. 1615. 12mo. 

[Censura Literaria, v. 51. Monthly Mirror, xi. 
16.] 



vi. The Good and the Badde, or Descriptions of the 
Worthies and Vnworthies of this age. Where 
the Best may see their Graces^ and the Worst 
discerne their Basenesse. London, printed hy 
George Purslowe for lohn Budge, and are to 
he sold at the great South-dore of Paules, arid 
at Brittaines Bursse. 1616. 

[4to, containing pp. 40, title, dedication "to Sir Gril- 
bert Houghton, Knight," and preface six more, 
A second edition appeared in 1643, under the 
title of England's Selected Characters, c&c] 

The author of these characters ^s was Nicholas 



48 These are a king ; a queen ; a prince ; a privy-counsellor ; a 
noble man ; a bishop ; a judge ; a knight ; a gentleman ; a lawyer ; 
a soldier ; a physician ; a merchant (their good and bad characters); 
a good man, and an atheist or most bad man ; a wise man and a 



APPENDIX. 207 

Breton, who dedicates them to Sir Gilbert Houghton, 
of Houghton, Knight. Of Breton no particulars 
are now known, excepting what may be gained from 
an epitaph in Norton church, Northamptonshire, "^^ 
by which we learn that he was the son of Captain 
Breton, of Tamworth, in Staffordshire, and served 
himself in the Low Countries, under the command 
of the Earl of Leicester. He married Anne, daugh- 
ter of Sir Edward Legh, or Leigh, of Bushell, 
Staffordshire, by whom he had five sons and four 
daughters, and having purchased the manor of Nor- 
ton, died there June 22, 1624.-50 

Breton appears to have been a poet of conside- 
rable reputation among his contemporaries, as he is 
noticed with commendation by Puttenhem and Meres : 
Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges declares that his poeti- 
cal powers were distinguished by a simplicity, at 
once easy and elegant. Specimens of his productions 
in verse, may be found in Percy's Reliques^ Ellis's 



fool ; an honest man and a knave ; an usurer ; a beggar ; a virgin 
and a wanton woman ; a quiet woman ; an unquiet woman ; a good 
wife ; an effeminate fool ; a parasite ; a bawd ; a drunkard ; a coward ; 
an honest poor man ; a just man ; a repentant sinner ; a reprobate ; 
an old man ; a young man, and a holy man. 

49 It is by no means certain that this may not be intended to per- 
petuate the memory of some other person of the same names, although 
Mr. Gough, in a note to the second volume of Queen Elizabeth'' s Pro- 
gresses^ seems to think it belongs to our author. 

50 Bridge's Northam2)tomhire, vol. ii. page 78, s. Shaw's Staf- 
fordshire, vol. i. page 422. 



208 MICKOCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Specimens^ Cooper's Muses' Library, Censura Lite- 
rara ; and an imperfect list of his publications is 
given by Ritson, in the Bihliograpliia Poctica, which 
is augmented by Mr. Park, in the Cens. Lit. ix. 
163.51 



A WORTHIE PRIUIE COUNCELLER. 

A worthy priuie counceller is the pillar of a 
realme, in whose wisedome and care, vnder God and 
the king, stands the safety of a kingdome ; he is the 
watch-towre to giue warning of the enemy, and a 
hand of prouision for the preseruation of the state j 
hee is an oracle in the king's eare, and a sword in 
the king's hand, and euen weight in the ballance of 



51 To these lists of Breton's productions may be added, 1. A So- 
lemne Passion of the SouWs Loue. 4to. Lond. 1598. 2. The 3fother's 
Blessing. 4to, Lond.lGO^. 3. A Trve Description of vnthankf itlnesse ; 
w an enemie to Ingratitude. 4to, Lond. 1602. 4. Breton's Longing, 
4to, title lost in the Bodleian copj^ : prefixed are verses by H. T. 
gent. 5. A Poste with a packet of Mad Letters. 4to, 1633, dedi- 
cated by Nicholas Breton, to Maximilian Dallison of Hawlin, Kent. 
The last tract excepted, all the above are in a volume bequeathed by 
Bishop Tanner to the university ot Oxford, which contains many of 
the pieces noticed by Ritson, and, in addition. The Passion of a dis- 
contented Minde. 4to, Lond. 1602, which I should have no hesitation 
in placing to Breton. At the end of the volume are The Passions of 
the Spirit, and Excellent Vercis ivortherj imitation of euery Christian 
in ihier Conuersiation, both in manuscript, and, if we may judge 
from the style, evidently by the author before mentioned. For the 
Figures, in the composition of which he had certainly a share, see 
page 224. 



APPENDIX. 209 

justice, and a light of grace in the loue of truth ; he 
is an eye of care in the course of lawe, a heart of loue 
in the seruice of his soueraigne, a mind of honour 
in the order of his seruice, and a braine of inuention 
for the good of the common-wealth ; his place is 
powerful, while his seruice is faithfull, and his ho- 
nour due in the desert of his employment. In summe, 
he is as a fixed planet mong the starres of the firma- 
ment, which through the clouds in the ay re, shewes 
the nature of his lioht. 



AN VNWORTHIE COUNCELLER. 

An vnworthie counceller is the hurt of a king, 
and the danger of a state, when the weaknes of 
judgement may commit an error, or the lacke of care 
may give way to vnhappinesse : he is a wicked 
charme in the kings eare, a sword of terror in the 
in the aduice of tyranny : his power is perillous in 
the partiality of will, and his heart full of hollow- 
nesse in the protestation of loue : hypocrisie is the 
couer of his counterfaite religion, and traitorous 
inuention is the agent of his ambition : he is the 
cloud of darknesse, that threatneth foule weather, 
and if it growe to a storme, it is feareful where it 
falls : hee is an enemy to God in the hate of grace, 
and worthie of death in disloyalty to his soueraigne. 
27 



210 MICKOCOSMOGRAPHY. 

In summe, he is an vnfit person for the place of a 
counceller, and an vnworthy subject to looke a king- 
in the face. 



AN EFFEMINATE FOOL. 

An effeminate foole is the figure of a baby ; he 
loues nothing but gay, to look in a glasse, to keepe 
among wenches, and to play with trifles ; to feed on 
sweet meats, and to be daunced in laps, to be im- 
braced in armes, and to be kissed on the cheeke : to 
talke idlely, to looke demurely, to goe nicely, and 
to laugh continually : to be his mistresse' servant, 
and her mayd's master, his father's love, and his 
mother's none-child : to play on a fiddle, and sing 
a loue-song, to weare sweet gloues, and look on 
fine things : to make purposes and write verses, de- 
uise riddles, and tell lies : to follow plaies, and 
study daunces, to heare newes, and buy trifles : to 
sigh for loue, and weepe for kindnesse, and mourne 
for company, and bee sicke for ffishion : to ride in a 
coach, and gallop a hackney, to watch all night, and 
sleepe out the morning : to lie on a bed, and take 
tobacco, and to send his page of an idle-message to 
his mistresse ; to go vpon gigges, to haue his ruff"es 
set in print, to picke his teeth, and play with a pup- 



APPENDIX. 211 

pet. In summe, hee is a man-childe, and a woman's 
man, a gaze of folly, and wisedome's griefe.ss 



Very aptly deuised by N. B. G-ent. 

[From " The Phoenix Nest. Built vp icith the most 
rare and refined loorJces of Nohle men, woorthi/ 
Knights, gallant Gentlemen, Masters of Arts, and 
hraue Schollers," &c.^ " Set foorth hy R. S. of 
the Inner Temple, Gentleman^' 4to. London, hy 
lohn lackson, 1593, pa^e 28.] 

A secret many yeeres vnseene. 
In play at cliesse, wlio knowes the game, 
First of the King, and then the Queene, 
Knight, Bishop, Rooke, and so by name. 

Of enerie Pawne I will descrie. 

The nature with the qualitie. 

THE KING. 

The King himselfe is haughtie care, 
Which ouerlooketh all his men, 



52 1 am not aware that the following specimen of his versification, 
which is curious, has been reprinted. 



212 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

And when lie seeth liow they fare 
He steps among them now and then, 

Whom, when his foe presumes to checke, 
His seruants stand, to giue the necke. 

THE QUEENE. 

The Queene is queint, and quicke conceit. 
Which makes hir walke which way she list. 
And rootes them vp, that lie in wait 
To worke hir treason, ere she wist: 
Hir force is such against hir foes 
That whom she meetes, she ouerthrowes. 

THE KNIGHT. 

The Knight is knowledge how to fight 
Against his prince's enimies, 
He neuer makes his walke outright, 
But leaps and skips, in wilie wise. 
To take by sleight a traitrous foe. 
Might slilie seeke their ouerthrowe. 

THE BISHOP. 

The Bishop he is wittie braine. 
That chooseth crossest pathes to pace, 
And euermore he pries with paine. 
To see who seekes him most disgrace : 
Such straglers when he findes astraie 
He takes them vp, and throwes awaie. 



APPENDIX. 213 

THE ROOKES. 

The Kookes are reason on both sides, 
Which keepe the corner houses still, 
And warily stand to watch their tides, 
By secret art to worke their will. 
To take sometime a theefe vnseene, 
Might mischiefe meane to King or Queene. 

THE PAWNES. 

The Pawne before the King, is peace, 
Which he desires to keepe at home, 
Practise, the Queene's, which doth not cease 
Amid the world abroad to roame. 
To finde, and fall upon each foe. 
Whereas his mistres meanes to goe. 

Before the Knight, is perill plast, 

Which he, by skipping ouergoes. 

And yet that Pawne can worke a cast, 

To ouerthrow his greatest foes ; 

The Bishop's prudence, prieng still 
Which way to worke his master's will. 

The Rooke's poore Pawnes, are sillie swaines. 
Which seeldome serue, except by hap. 
And yet those Pawnes, can lay their traines. 
To catch a great man, in a trap : 
So that I see, sometime a groome 
May not be spared from his roome. 



214 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



THE NATURE OF THE CHESSE MEN. 

The King is stately, looking hie ; 
The Queene doth beare like maiestie : 
The Knight is hardie, valiant, wise : 
The Bishop prudent and precise. 

The Rookes no raungers out of raie,53 
The Pawnes the pages in the plaie. 

LENVOY. 

Then rule with care, and quicke conceit, 
And fight with knowledge, as with force ; 
So beare a braine, to dash deceit. 
And worke with reason and remorse. 
Forgive a fault when young men plaie, 
So giue a mate, and go your way. 

And when you plaie beware of checke, 
Know how to saue and giue a neeke : 
And with a checke beware of mate; 
But cheefe, ware, had I wist too late : 
Loose not the Queene, for ten to one, 
If she be lost, the game is gone." 



53 Bate, for array ; order, rank. So Spencer. 

" And all the damzels of that towne in ray, 
Came dauncing forth, and ioyous carrols song : " 

Faerie Queene, book v. canto xi. 34. 



APPENDIX. 215 

vii. Essay es and Characters of a Prison and Prison- 
ers. Written hi/ G. M. of Grayes^-Inne, Gent. 
(Woodcut of a keeper standing with the hatch 
of a prison open, in his left hand a staff, the 
following lines at the side ; 

** Those that keepe mee, I keepe ; if can, will still : 
Hee's a true laylor strips the Diuell in ill.") 

Printed at London for Mathew Walhancke and are 
to he solde at his shops at the new and old Gate of 
Grayes-lnne, 1618. 

[4to. pp. 48. title, dedication, &c. eight more.] 

A second edition appeared in 1638, and, as the 
title informs us, " with some new additions : " what 
these were I am not able to state, as my copy, al- 
though it appears perfect, contains precisely the 
same with that of 1618. 

Of Greffray Mynshul, as he signs his name to the 
dedication, I can learn no particulars, but I have 
reason to suppose him descended from an ancient and 
highly respectable family, residing at Minshull, in 
the county of Chester,^^ during the sixteenth and 



54 In the church of St. Mary, at Nantwich, in that county, is a 
monument erected by Geofry Minshull, of Stoke, Esq. to the me- 
mory of his ancestors. Historical Account of Nantwich, 8vo. 1774, 
page 33. King, in his Vale Royal of England, folio, Lond. 1656, page 
74, speaks of Minshall-hall, "a very ancient seat, which hath con- 
tinued the successions of a worshipful race in its own name"— &c. 



216 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

seventeenth centuries. By what mishap he became 
an inmate of the Kings'-bench prison, from when he 
dates "55 his Essaf/s, it is impossible to conjecture, 
but as he talks of usury and extortion, as well as of 
severe creditors; and advises those who are com- 
pelled to borrow, to pay as soon as they can we, may 
suppose that imprudence and extravagance assisted 
in reducing him to the situation he attempts to de- 
scribe. 

In the dedication to his uncle, " Mr Matthew 
Mainwaring, -^^ of Namptwich, in Cheshire, " he 
says: — " Since my comming into this prison, what 
with the strangenesse of the place, and strictnesse 
of my liberty, I am so transported that I could not 
follow that study wherein I tooke great delight and 
cheife pleasure, and to spend my time idley would 
but adde more discontentments to my troubled brest, 
and being in this chaos of discontentments, fanta- 
sies must arise, which will bring forth the fruits of 
an idle braine, for e malis minimum. It is farre 
better to giue some accompt of time, though to little 
purpose, than none at all. To which end I gathered 
a handfuU of essayes, and fow characters of such 



55 This place of residence was omitted in the second edition. 

56 The Mainwariugs were an old family of repute, being mentioned 
as residing near Nantwich, hj Leiand, Jtin. vol. 7. pt. i. fol. 43. 
See also the list of escheators of Cheshire, in Leycester's Historical 
Antiquities, folio, Lond. 1673, p. 186. 



APPENDIX. 217 

things as by my owne experience I could say Proha- 
tum est : not that thereby I should either please the 
reader, or shew exquisitenes of inuention, or curious 
stile ; seeing what I write of is but the child of sor- 
row, bred by discontentments, and nourisht vp with 
misfortunes, to whose help melancholly Saturne 
gaue his iudgement, the night-bird her inuention, 
and the ominous rauen brought a quill taken from 
his owne wing, dipt in the inke of misery, as chiefs 
ayders in this architect of sorrow." 



" CHARACTER OF A PRISONER. 

A prisoner is an impatient patient, lingering 
vnder the rough hands of a cruell phisitian : his 
creditor hauing cast his water knowes his disease, 
and hath power to cure him, but takes more plea- 
sure to kill him. He is like Tantalus, who hath 
freedome running by his doore, yet cannot enjoy the 
least benefit thereof. His greatest griefe is that 
his credit was so good and now no better. His land 
is drawne within the compasse of a sheepe's skin, 
and his owne hand the fortification that barres him 
of entrance : hee is fortunes tossing-bal, an obiect 
that would make mirth melancholy : to his friends 
an abiect, and a subject of nine days' wonder in 
euery barber's shop, and a mouthfull of pitty (that 
28 



218 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

lie had no better fortune) to midwiues and talkatiue 
gossips ; and all the content that this transitory life 
can giue him seemes but to flout him, in respect the 
restraint of liberty barres the true vse. To his fa- 
miliars hee is like a plague, whom they dare scarce 
come nigh for feare of infection, he is a monument 
ruined by those which raysed him, he spends the 
day with a Jiei mihi! ve miserum ! and the night 
with a nullis est medicahilis herhis." 



viii. Cvres for the Itch. Characters. Epigrams. 
Epitaphs. By H. P. Scalpat qui tangitur. 
London, Printed for Thomas Tones, at the signe 
of the Blacke Rauen in the Strand. 1626. 
[8vo. containing pp. 142, not numbered.] 

I have little doubt but that the initials H. P. may 
be attributed with justice to Tlenry Parrot, author 
of Laquei ridiculosi : or, Springes for Woodcocks, 
a collection of epigrams, printed at London in 
1613, •''' 8vo. and commended by Mr. Warton, who 
says, that " many of them are worthy to be revived 



57 Mr. Steevens quotes an editiou in 1606, but the preface ex- 
pressly states, that they were composed in 1611.—" Duo propemo- 
clumanni elapsi sunt, ex quoprimiim Ejngramjnata hcec (gualia- 
cvnque) raptim etfestinanter perjiciebam "— &c. 



APPENDIX. 219 

in modern collections. ^^ To the same person I 
would also give The 3Iastive, or Young Whelpe of 
the Old Dogge. Uj^igrams and Satyrs. Lond. 
(Date cut off in the Bodleian copy,) 4to. — The 
Mouse Trap^ consisting q/100 Epigrams 4to. 1606. — 
Epigrams hy H. P. ^to, 1608.— and The More the 
Merrier : containing three-score and odde headlesse 
Epigrams^ shot {like the Fooles holt^ amongst t/ou, 
light wliere they will, 4to. 1608.^9 

It appears from the Preface to Cores for the Itch, 
that the Epigrams and Epitaphs were written in 
1624, during the author's residence in the country, 
at the " long vacation,^' and the Characters ^o 
which are " not so fully perfected as was meant,'' 
were composed " of later times." The following 
afford as fair a specimen of this part of the volume 
as can be produced. 

" A SCOLD. (B. 5.) 

Is a much more heard of, then least desired to bee 
seene or knowne, she-kinde of serpent; the ve- 



58 History of English Poetry, iv. 73. 

59 Censura Liter aria, iii, 387, 388. 

60 These consist of a ballacl-maker ; a tapster ; a drunkard; a rec- 
tified young man; a young nouice's new younger wife; a common 
fidler ; a broker ; a iouiall good fellow ; a humourist ; a malepart 
yong upstart ; a scold ; a good wife, and a selfe conceited parcell- 
witty old dotard. 



220 MTCROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

nom'd sting of whose poysonous tongue, worse then 
the biting of a scorpion, proues more infectious farre 
then can be cured. Shee's of all other creatures 
most vntameablest, and couets more than the last 
word in scoulding, then doth a Combater the last 
stroke for victorie. She lowdest lifts it standing at 
her door, bidding, w^'' exclamation, flat defiance to 
any one sayes blacke's her eye. She dares appeare 
before any iustice, nor is least daunted with the 
sight of a counstable, nor at worst threatnings of a 
cucking-stoole. There's nothing mads nor moues 
her more to outrage, then but the very naming of a 
wispe, or if you sing or whistle when she is scould- 
ing. If any in the interim chance to come with- 
in her reach, twenty to one she scratcheth him 
by the face ; or doe but offer to hold her hands, 
sheel presently begin to cry out murder. There's 
nothing pacifies her but a cup of sacke, which tak- 
ing in full measure of digestion, shee presently for- 
gets all wrongs that's done her, and thereupon falls 
streight a weeping. Doe but intreat her with faire 
words, or flatter her, she then confesseth all her im- 
perfections, and layes the guilt vpon the whore her 
mayd. Her manner is to talke much in her sleepe, 
what wrongs she hath indured of that rogue her 
husband, whose hap may be in time to dye a martyr; 
and so I leaue them.'^ 



APPENDIX. 221 

" A GOOD WIFE, 

Is a world of happiness, that brings with it a 
kingdom in conceit, and makes a perfect adiunct in 
societie ; shee's such a comfort as exceeds content, 
and proues so precious as canot be paralleld, yea 
more inestimable then may be valued. Shee's any 
good man's better second selfe, the very mirror 
of true constant modesty, the careful! huswife of 
frugalitie, and dearest obiect of man's heart's feli- 
citie. She commands with mildnesse, rules with 
discretion. Hues in repute, and ordereth all things 
that are good or necessarie. Shee's her husband's 
solace, her house's ornament, her children's succor, 
and her seruant's comfort. Shee's (to be briefe) the 
eye of warinesse, the tongue of silence, the hand of 
labour, and the heart of loue. Her voice ismusicke, 
her countenance meeknesse; her minde vertuous, 
and her soule gratious. Shee's a blessing giuen 
from God to man, a sweet companion in his affliction, 
and ioynt co-partner upon all occasions. Shee's (to 
conclude) earth's chiefest paragon, and will bee, when 
shee dyes, heauen's dearest creature." 



222 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



ix. diaracters of Virtves and Vices. In two Bookes. 
By los. Hall. Imprinted at London^ 1627. 

The above is copied from a separate title in the 
collected works of Bishop Hall, printed in folio, and 
dedicated to James the First. The book, I believe, 
originally appeared in 8vo. 1008.^ ^ Of this edition 
I have in vain endeavored to procure some informa- 
tion, although I cannot fancy it to be of any pecu- 
liar rarity. 

The volume contains a dedication to Edward Lord 
Denny, and James Lord Hay, a premonition of the 
title and use of characters, the proemes, eleven vir- 
tuous characters, and fifteen of a different discription. 
As Bishop Hall's collected works have so lately ap- 
peared in a new edition, and as Mr. Pratt"- proposes 
to add a life of the author in a subsequent volume, 
I shall forbear giving any specimen from the works 
or biographical notices of this amiable prelate, re- 
commending the perusal of his excellent productions, 
to all who admire the combination of sound sense 
with unaffected devotion. 



61 See Brand's Sale Catalogue. 8vo. 1807, page 115, No. 3147. 

62 See the Gentlemen's Magazine for October, 1810, LXXXI, 317. 



APPENDIX. 223 



X. Micrologia. Characters^ or Ussayes, of Persons, 
Trades, and Places, offered to the City and 
Country. By R. M. Printed at London hy 
T. C. for Michael Sparke, dwelling at the blue 
Bible, in Greene Arbor. 1629. 

[8vo. containing 56 pages, not numbered.] 

The characters in this volume are " A fantasticke 
taylor ; a player ; a shooe-maker ; a rope-maker j a 
smith ; a tobacconist; a cunning woman ; a cobler ; 
a tooth-drawer ; a tinker ; a fidler ; a cunning horse- 
courser; Bethlem; Ludgate ; Bridewell; (and) New- 
gate.''— 

"A PLAYER. — (^Sign. B. iii.) 

Is a volume of various conceits or epitome of time, 
who by his representation and appearance makes 
things long past seeme present. He is much like the 
compters in arithmeticke, and may stand one while 
for a king, another while a begger, many times as a 
mute or cypher. Sometimes hee represents that 
which in his life he scarse practises — to be an ho- 
nest man. To the point, hee oft personates a rover, 
and therein comes neerest to himselfe. If his ac- 
tion prefigure passion, he raues, rages, and protests 



224 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

much by his painted heauens, and seemes in the 
heighth of this fit ready to pull loue out of the gar- 
ret, where pershance hee lies leaning on his elbowes, 
or is imployed to make squips and crackers to grace 
the play. His audience are often-times iudicious, 
but his chiefs admirers are commonly young wanton 
chamber-maids, who are so taken with his posture 
and gay clothes, they neuer eome to be their owne 
women after. Hee exasperates men's enormities in 
publike view, and tels them their faults on the stage, 
not as being sorry for them, but rather wishes still 
hee might finde more occasions to worke on. He is 
the generall corrupter of spirits, yet vntainted, in- 
ducing them by gradation to much lasciuious depra- 
uity. He is a perspicuity of vanity in variety, and 
suggests youth to perpetrate such vices, as other- 
wise they had haply nere heard of. He is (for the 
most part) a notable hypocrite, seeming what he is 
not, and is indeed what hee seemes not. And if 
hee lose one of his fellow stroules, in the summer he 
turnes king of the gipsies : if not, some great man's 
protection is a sufficient warrant for his peregrina- 
tion, and a meanes to procure him the town-hall, 
where hee may long exercise his qualities, with 
clown-claps of great admiration, in a tone sutable 
to the large eares of his illiterate auditorie. Hee is 
one seldome takes care for old age, because ill diet 
and disorder, together with a consumption, or some 



APPENDIX. 225 

worse disease, taken vp in liis full careere, haue 
onely chalked out his catastrophe but to a colon : 
and he scarsely suruiues to his natural} period of 
dajes." 



xi. Whimzies ; Or, A new Cast of Characters. 
Novo, noil nota delectant. London, Printed 
hy F. K. and are to he sold hy Ambrose Ritliir- 
don, at the signe of the BidV s-head, in PauFs 
Church-yard. 1631. 

[12mo. containing in all, pp. 280.] 

The dedication to this volume, which is inscribed 
to sir Alexander Radcliffe,\s signed " Clitiis - Alex- 
andrinus ;" the author's real name I am unable to 
discover. It contains twenty-four characters, "^ be- 
sides " A eater-character^ throwne out of a hoxe hy 
an experienced gamester ;'' ^^ and some lines " vpon 



63 An Almanack-maker : a ballad-monger ; a corranto-coiner : a 
decoy ; an exchange man ; a forrester ; a gamester ; an hospitall- 
man ; a iaylor ; a keeper ; a launderer ; a metall man ; a neuter ; an 
ostler ; a post-master ; a quest-man ; a ruffian ; a sailor ; a trauller ; 
an vnder sheriffe ; a wine-soaker ; a Xantippean ; a jealous neigh- 
bor; a zealous brother. 

64 This eater-character, which possesses a separate title page, con- 
tains delineations of an apparator ; a painter ; a pedler ; and a 
piper. 

29 



226 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

the birth-day of his sonne lohn," of which the first 
will be sufficient to satisfy all curiosity. 

" God blesse thee, lohn, 

And make thee such an one 
That I may ioy 

in calling thee my son. 

Thou art my ninth, 

and by it I divine 
That thou shalt live 

to love the Muses nine." — &c., &c. 



" A CORRANTO-COINER — (p. 15.) 

Is a state newes-monger ; and his owne genius is 
his intelligencer. His mint goes weekely, and he 
coines monie by it. Howsoeuer, the more intelli- 
gent merchants doe jeere him, the vulgar doe admire 
him, holding his novels oracular : and these are 
usually sent for tokens or intermissiue curtsies be- 
twixt city and countrey. Hee holds most constantly 
one forme or method of discourse. He retaines some 
militarie words of art, which hee shootesat randome ; 
no matter where they hitt, they cannot wound any. 
He ever leaves some passages doubtfull, as if they 
were some more intimate secrecies of state, dozing 
his sentence abruptly with — heereafter you shall 
heare more. Which words, I conceive, he onely 



APPENDIX. 227 

useth as baites, to make the appetite of the reader 
iQore eager in his next week's pursuit for a more 
satisfying labour. Somegenerall-erring relations he 
pickes up, as crummes or fragments, from a frequent- 
ed ordinarie : of which shreads he shapes a cote to 
fit any credulous foole that will weare it. You shall 
never observe him make any. reply in places of pub- 
like concourse ; hee ingenuously acknowledges him- 
selfe to bee more bounden to the happinesse of a 
retentive memory, than eyther ability of tongue, 
or pregnancy of conceite. He carryes his table- 
booke still about with him, but dares not pull it out 
publikely. Yet no sooner is the table drawne, than 
he turnes notarie ; by which means hee recovers 
the charge of his ordinarie. Paules is his walke in 
winter ; Moorfields ^"^ in sommer. Where the whole 
discipline, designes, projects, and exploits of the 
States, Netherlands, Poland, Switzer, Crimchan 
and all, are within the compasse of one quadrangle 
walke most judiciously and punctually discovered. 
But long he must not walke, lest hee make his newes- 



65 Moorfields were a general promenade for the citizens of London, 
during the summer months. The ground was left to the city by- 
Mary and Catherine, daughters of Sir William Fines, a Knight of 
Rhodes, in the reign of Edward the Confessor. Eichard Johnson, 
a poetaster of the sixteenth century, published in 1607, The Plea- 
sant Walkes of Moore-fields. Being the Guift of two Sisters, noio 
beautified, to the continuing fame of this worthy Citty. 4to, black- 
letter, of which Mr. Gough, {Brit. Topog.'] Avho was ignorant of the 
above, notices an impression in 161T. 



228 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

presse stand. Thanks to his good invention, he can 
collect much out of a very little : no matter thougjh 
more experienced judgements disprove him ; hee 
is anonvmos, and that wil secure him. To make 
his reports more credible or, (which he and his 
stationer onely aymes at.) more vendible, in the re- 
lation of every occurrent he renders you the day of 
the moneth ; and to approve himselfe a scholler, he 
annexeth these Latine parcells, or parcell-gilt sen- 
tences, veteri sti/Io, novo stylo. Palisados, parapets, 
counter-scarfes, forts, fortresses, rampiers, bulwarks, 
are his usual dialect. Hee writes as if he would doe 
some mischiefe, yet the charge of his shot is but pa- 
per. Hee will sometimes start in his sleepe, as one 
affrighted with visions, which I can impute to no 
other cause but to the terrible skirmishes which he 
discoursed of in the day-time. He has now tyed 
himselfe apprentice to the trade of mintinoj, and 
must weekly performe his taske, or (beside the losse 
which accrues to himselfe,) he disappoints a number 
of no small fooles, whose discourse, discipline, and 
discretion, is drilled from his state-service. These 
you shall know by their Mondai's morning question, 
a little before Exchange time ; Stationer^ have you 
any newes ? Which they no sooner purchase than 
peruse; and, early by next morning, (lest their 
countrey friend should be deprived of the benefit of 
so rich a prize,) they freely vent the substance of it, 



APPENDIX. 229 

with some illustrations, if their understanding can 
furnish them that way. He would make you beleeve 
that nee were knowne to some forraine intelligence, 
but I hold him the wisest man that hath the least 
faith to beleeve him. For his relations he stands 
resolute, whether they become approved, or evinced 
for untruths ; which if they bee, hee has contracted 
with his face never to blush for the matter. Hee 
holds especiall concurrence with two philosophical! 
sects, though hee bee ignorant of the tenets of either : 
in the collection of his observations, he \& peripateti- 
call, for hee walkes circularly; in the digestion of his 
relations he is Stoically and sits regularly. Hee has 
an alphabeticall table of all the chiefs commanders, 
generals, leaders, provinciall townes, rivers, ports, 
creekes, with other fitting materials to furnish his ima- 
ginary building. Whisperings, muttrings, and bare 
suppositions, are sufficient grounds for the authoritie 
of his relations. It is strange to see with what 
greedinesse this ayrie Chameleon, being all lungs 
and winde, will swallow a receite of newes, as if it 
were physical! : yea, with what frontlesse insinua- 
tion he will scrue himselfe into the acquaintance 
of some knowing Intelligencers, who, trying the cask 
by his hollow sound, do familiarly gull him. I am 
of opinion, were all his voluminous centuries of fabu- 
lous relations compiled, they would vye in number 
with the Iliads of many forerunning ages. You 



230 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

shall many times finde in his Gazettas, pasquils, and 
corrantos miserable distractions ; here a city taken 
by force long before it bee besieged -, there a coun- 
trey laid waste before ever the euemie entered. He 
many times tortures his readers with impertinencies, 
yet are these the tolerablest passages throughout all 
his discourse. He is the very landskip of our age. 
He is all ayre ; his eare alwayes open to all re- 
ports, which, how incredible soever, must passe for 
currant, and find vent, purposely to get him currant 
money, and delude the vulgar. Yet our best com- 
fort is, his chymeras live not long ; a weeke is the 
longest in the citie, and after their arrival, little 
longer in the countrey ; which past, they melt like But- 
ter^ or match a pipe, and so Burnefi'' But indeede, most 
commonly it is the height of their ambition to aspire 
to the imployment of stopping mustard-pots, or 
wrapping up pepper, pouder, staves-aker, &c., which 
done, they expire. Now for his habit, Wapping and 
Long-lane will give him his character. Hee honours 
nothing with a more iudeered observance, nor hug-jres 
ought with more intimacie than antiquitie, which he 



66 This is certainly intended as a pun upon the names of two news- 
venders or corranto-coiners of the day. Nathaniel Butter, the pub- 
lisher of " I'Jie certain Neioes of this present Week,''"' lived at the 
Pyde-Bidl, St. Austin's-gate, and was the proprietor of several of 
the intelligencers, from 1622 to about 1640. Nicholas Bourne was a 
joint partner with Butter in The Siveedish Intelligencer. 4to. 
Loncl. 1632. 



APPENDIX. ^ 231 

expresseth even in his cloatlies. I have knowne 
some love fish best that smelled of the panyer ; and 
the like humour reignes in him, for hee loves that 
apparele best that has a taste of the broker. Some 
have held him for a scholler, but trust mee such 
are in a palpable errour, for hee never yet under- 
stood so much Latine as to construe Gallo-Belgicus^ 
"For his librarie (his owne continuations excepted,) 
it consists of very few or no bookes. He holds 
himselfe highly engaged to his invention if it can 
purchase him victuals ; for authors hee never con- 
verseth with them, unlesse they walke in Paules. 
For his discourse it is ordinarie, yet hee will znake 
you a terrible repetition of desperate commanders, 
unheard of exployts ; intermixing withall his owne 
personall service. But this is not in all companies, 
for his experience hath sufiiciently informed him 
in this principle — that as nothing workes more on 
the simple than things strange and incredibly rare ; 
so nothing discovers his weaknesse more among the 
knowing and judicious than to insist, by way of 
discourse, on reports above conceite. Amongst these, 
therefore, hee is as mute as a fish. But now ima- 
gine his lampe (if he be worth one,) to be neerely 
burnt out ; his inventing genius wearied and sur- 
foote with raunging over so many unknowne regions ; 
and himselfe, wasted with the fruitlesse expence of 
much paper, resigning his place of weekly collections 



232 MICROCOSMOGKAPHY. 

to anotlier, whom, in hope of some little share, hee 
has to his stationer recommended, while he lives 
either poorely respected, or dyes miserably suspended. 
The rest I end with his owne cloze : — Next weeJce 
you shallheare mover 



xii. Picturse loquentes : or Pictures draivne forth in 
Characters. With a Poeme of a Maid. By 
Wye Saltonstcdl. Ne sutor idtra crepidam. 
London: Printed hy T. Coles, Sfc. 1631. 12??io. 

I have copied the above title from an article in 
the Censura Literaria., ^'' communicated by Mr. 
Park, of whose copious information, and constant 
accuracy on every subject connected with English 
literature, the public have many specimens before 
them. 

SaltonstalFs 'J^ Characters, &c. reached a second 
edition in 1635. A copy of this rare volume is in 
the possession of Mr. Douce, who, with his accus- 
tomed liberality, permitted my able and excellent 



67 Vol. 5, p. 372. Mr. Park says that the plan of the characters was 
undoubtedly derived from that of Overbury, but, he adds, the execu- 
tion is greatly superior. Four stanzas from the poem entitled, A 
Maid, are printed in tbe same volume. 

68 An account of the author may be found in the Athence Oxon. 
Vol. 1. col. 640. 



APPENDIX. 238 

friend, Mr. John James Park, to draw up tlie fol- 
lowing account of it for the present volume. 

To "The Epistle dedicatory" of this impression, 
the initials (or such like) of dedicatee's name only 
are given, for, says the dedicator, " I know no fame 
can redound unto you by these meane essayes, which 
were written, Ocium mogis foventes^ quam studentes 
glorise, as sheapheards play upon their oaten pipes, 
to recreate themselves, not to get credit." 

" To the Reader. — Since the title is the first 
leafe that cometh under censure, some, perhaps, will 
dislike the name of pictures, and say, I have no 
colour for it, which I confesse, for these pictures are 
not drawne in colours, but in characters, represent- 
ing to the eye of the minde divers severall profes- 
sions, which, if they appeare more obscure than I 
coulde wish, yet I would have you know that it is 
not the nature of a character, to be as smooth as a 
bull-rush, but to have some fast and loose knots, 
which the ingenious reader may easily untie. The 
first picture is the description of a maide, which 
young men may read, and from thence learn to 
know, that vertue is the truest beauty. The next 
follow in their order, being set together in this 
little book, that in winter you may reade them ad 
igner)!^ by the fire-side, and in summer ad umhrani, 
under some shadie tree, and therewith passe away 
the tedious howres. So hoping of thy favourable 
30 



234 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



censure, knowing that the least judicious are most 
ready to judge, I expose them to thy view, with 
Apelles motto, Ne sutor, ultra crepidam. Lastly, 
whether you like them, or leave them, yet the au- 
thor bids you welcome. 

Thine as mine, 

W. S." 





The Original 


Characters are, 


1. 


The world. 


14. A wandering rogue. 


2. 


An old man. 


15. A waterman. 


3. 


A woman. 


16. A shepheard. 


4. 


A widdow. 


17. A jealous man. 


5. 


A true lover. 


18. A chamberlaine. 


6. 


A countrey bride. 


19. A mayde. 


7. 


A plowman. 


20. A bayley. 


8. 


A melancholy man. 


21. A countrey fayre. 


9. 


A young heire. 


22. A countrey alehouse. 


10. 


A scholler in the uni- 


23. A horse-race. 




versity. 


24. A farmer's daughter. 


11. 


A lawyer's clarke. 


25. A keeper. 


12. 


A townsman in Ox- 


26. A gentleman's house 




ford. 


in the countrey. 


13. 


An usurer. 





The Additions to the second Edition are, 
2.1. A fine dame. 29. A gardiner. 

28. A country dame. 30. A captaine. 



APPENDIX. 235 

31. A poore village. 36. A happy man. 

32. A merry man. 37. An arrant knave. 

33. A scrivener. 38. An old waiting gen> 

34. The tearme. tie-woman. 

35. A mower. 



" THE TEARME 

Is a time when Justice keeps open court for all 
commers, while her sister Equity strives to mitigate 
the rigour of her positive sentence. It is called the 
Tearme, because it does end and terminate busines, 
or else because it is the Terminus ad quem, that is, 
the end of the countrey man's journey, who comes 
up to the Tearme, and with his hobnayle shooes 
grindes the faces of the poore stones, and so returnes 
againe. It is soule of the yeare, and makes it 
quicke, which before was dead. Inkeepers gape for 
it as earnestly as shelfish doe for salt water after a low 
ebbe. It sends forth new bookes into the world, and 
replenishes Paul's walke with fresh company, where 
Quid novi? is their first salutation, and the weekely 
newes their chiefs discourse. The tavernes are 
painted against the tearme, and many a cause is 
argu'd there and try'd at that barre, where you are 
adjudg'd to pay the costs and charges, and so dis- 
mist with ' welcome gentlemen.' Now the citty 
puts her best side outward, and a new play at the 



236 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

Blackfryers is attended on with coaches. It keepes 
watermen from sinking and helpes them with many a 
fare voyage to Westminster. Your choyse beauties 
come up to it onely to see and be scene, and to learne 
the newest fashion, and for some other recreations. 
Now monie that has beene long sicke and crasie, 
begins to stirre and walke abroad, especially if some 
young prodigalls come to towne, who bring more 
money than wit. Lastly, the tearme is the joy of 
the citty, a deare friend to countrymen, and is never 
more welcome than after a Ion"; vacation .^^ 



xiii. London and Country corhonadoed and quar- 
tered into seuerall Characters. By Donald 
Luj)ton, 8vo. 1632. 

[See British Bibliographer, i. 464 ; and Brand's 
Sale Catalogue, page 66, No. 1754.] 



xiv. Character of a Gentleman, appended to Brath- 
wait's English Gentleman, Ato. London, hy 
Felix Kyngston, &c. 1633. 



APPENDIX. 237 

XV. " A straiige Metamorpliosis of Man ^ transformed 
into a Wildernesse. Deciphered in Characters. 
London^ Printed hy Thomas Harper^ and are 
to he sold hy Lawrence Chapman at his shoj) in 
Holhorne, 1634/' 

[12mo. containing pp. 296, not numbered.] 

This curious little volume has been noticed by 
Mr. Haslewood, in the Censura Literaria (vii. 
284.) who says, with justice, that a rich vein of 
humour and amusement runs through it, and that 
it is the apparent lucubration of a pen able to per- 
form better things. Of the author's name I have 
been unable to procure the least intelligence. 

"the horse (No. 16.) 

Is a creature made, as it were, in waxe. When 
Nature first framed him, she took a secret compla- 
cence in her worke. He is even hermaster-peece in 
irracionall things, borrowing somewhat of all things 
to set him forth. For example, his slicke bay coat 
hee took from the chesnut; his neeke from the 
rainbow, which perhaps make him rain so wel. His 
maine belike he took from Pec/asus, making him a 
hobbie to make this a compleat gennet 'J'^ which 



69 Mr. Steeven?, in a note to Othello, explains a jennet to be a 
Spanish horse ; but from the passage just given, I confess it appears 



238 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

main he weares so curld, mucli after tlie women's 
fashion now adayes ; — this I am sure of howsoever, 
it becomes them, [and] it sets forth our gennet well. 
His legges he borrowed of the hart, with his swift- 
nesse, which makes him a true courser indeed. The 
starres in his forehead hee fetchtfrom heaven, which 
will not be much mist, there being so many. The 
little head he hath, broad breast, fat buttocke, and 
thicke tayle are properly his owne, for he knew not 
where to get him better. If you tell him of the 
homes he wants to make him most compleat, he 
scornes the motion, and sets them at his heele. He 
is well shod especially in the upper leather, for as 
for his soles, they are much at reparation, and often 
faine to be removed. Nature seems to have spent 
an apprentiship of yeares to make you such a one, 
for it is full seven yeares ere hee comes to this perfec- 
tion, and be fit for the saddle : for then (as we,) it 
seemes to come to the yeares of discretion, when he 
will shew a kinde of rationall judgement with him, 
and if yoa set an expert rider on his backe, you 
shall see how sensiblie they will talke together, as 
master and scholler. When he shall be no sooner 
mounted and planted in the seat with the reins in 



to me to meau somewhat more. Perhaps a jenuet was a horse kept 
solely for pleasure, whose mane was suffered to grow to a conside- 
rable length, and was then ornamented with platting, &c.— A hobby 
might answer to what we now term a hogged poney. 



APPENDIX. 239 

one hand, a switcli in the other, and speaking with 
his spurres in the horse's flankes, a language he wel 
understands, but he shall prance, curvet, and dance 
the canaries ''O halfe an houre together in compasse 
of a bushell, and yet still, as he thinkes, get some 
ground, shaking the goodly plume on his head with 
a comely pride. This will our Bucephalus do in 
the lists : but when hee comes abroad into the 
fields, hee will play the countrey gentleman as truly, 



70 The Canaries is the name of an old dance, frequently alluded to 
in our early Englisli plays. Shakspeare uses it in AWs ivell that 

ends well— 

"I have seen a medicine, 

That's able to breathe life into a stone ; 

Quicken a rock, and make you dance canain/ 

With spritely fire and motion ; " 
Sir John Hawkins, in his Hxstwy of Mustek^ iv. 391. says that it 
occurs in the opera of Dioclesian^ set to music by Purcell, and ex- 
plains it to be "a very sprightly movement of two reprises, or 
strains, with eight bars in each : the time three quarters in a bar, 
the first pointed." I take this opportunity of mentioning, that 
among Dr. Eawlinson's MSS. in the Bodleian, {Poet. 108.] is a 
volume which contains a variety of figures of old dances, written, as 
I conjecture, between the years 1566 and 1580. Besides several others 
are the immjan ; my Lord of Essex measures ; tyntermell ; the old 
allmayne ; the longe imman ; quanto dysjjayne ; the nyne mtfses, &c. 
As the pavian is mentioned by Shakspeare, in the Merry Wives of 
Windsor, and as the directions for dancing the figure have not been 
before discovered, I shall make no apology for offering them in the 
present note. 

THE LONGE PAVIAN, 

ij singles, a duble forward ; ij singles syde, a duble forward ; 
repince backe once, ij singles syde, a duble forward, one single backe 
twyse, ij singles, a duble forward, ij singles syde, prerince backe 
once ; ij singles syde, a duble forward, reprince backe twyse." 



240 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

as before the knight in turnament. If the game be 
up once, and the hounds in chase, you shall see how 
he will pricke up his eares streight, and tickle at 
the sport as much as his rider shall, and laugh so loud, 
that if there be many of them, they will even drowne 
the rurall harmony of the dogges. When he travels, 
of all innes he loves best the signe of the silver bell, 
because likely there he fares best, especially if hee 
come the first, and get the prize. He carries his 
eares upright, nor seldome ever lets them fall till 
they be cropt oflF, and after that, as in despight, will 
never weare them more. His taile is so essentiall to 
him, that if he loose it once hee is no longer an 
horse, but ever stiled a curtail. To conclude, he is 
a blade of Vulcan's forging^ made for Mars of the 
best metall, and the post of Fame to carrie her 
tidings through the world, who, if he knew his 
own strength, would shrewdly put for the monarchic 
of our wildernesse." 



xvi. The true CTiaraeter of an untrue Bishop : 
ivitli a Reci/pe at the end hoiv to recover a Bishop 
if hee were lost. London , pi'inted in the yeare 
1641.'i 

[4to. pp. 10, besides title.] 

71 1 have a faint recollection of a single character in a rare volume, 
entitled"^ Boiilster Lecture '"' &c. Lond. 1640. 



APPENDIX. 241 

xvii. Character of a Projector^ hy Jiogg. 4to. 

1642. 



xviii. Gharacter of an Oxford Incendiary. Printed 

for Robert White in 1643. 4to. 

[Reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany, V. 469. 

edit. 1744. 



xix. The Reformado 'precUely charactered {with a 

frontispiece.^ 

[See the Sale Catalogue of G-eorge Steevens, Esq. 

8vo. Lond. 1800. page 66. No. 1110.] 



:. " A new Anatomic^ or Character of a Christ- 
ian or Round-head. Expressing his Description^ 
Excellencies Happiness and Innocencie. Where- 
in may appear how far this blind loorld is mis- 
taken in their unjust Censures of him. Virtus in 
Arduis. {Proverbs xii. 26 ; a7id Jude 10, 
quoted) Imprimatur John Downame. London, 
Printed for Robert Leybourne, and are to be sold 
at the Star, under Peter's Church in Corn-hill, 
1645. 8vo. pp. 13. 

[In Ashmole's Museum.] 
31 



242 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

xxi. In Lord North's Forest of Varieties^ London. 
Printed hij Richard Cotes, 1645, are several 
Characters, as lord Orford informs us, " in the 
manner of sir Thomas Overbury." Royal and 
Noble Authors, iii. 82. Of this volume a second 
edition appeared in 1659, neither of these, 
however, I have been able to meet with. For 
some account of the work, with extracts, see 
Brydges' 3Icmoirs of the Peers of England, 
8vo. London. 1802. page 343. 



xxii. Characters and Elegies.''- By Francis Wort- 
ley Knight and Baronet. Printed in the yeere 
1646.'' 4to. 
The characters are as follow : 

1. The character of his royall majestic; 2. The 
character of the queene's majestic; 3. The hopeful 
prince; 4. A true character of the illustrious James 
Duke of York; 5. The character of a noble general; 
6. A true English protestant; 7. An antinomian, 
or anabaptisticall independent; 8. A jesuite; 9. The 
true character of a northerne lady, as she is wife, 
mother, and sister; 10. The politique neuter; 11. 



72 The Elegies, according to Wood, are upon the loyalists 
who lost their lives in the king's service, at the end of which are 
epitaphs. 



APPENDIX, 243 

The citie paragon ; 12. A sharking committee-man ; 
13. Britanicus his pedigree — a fatall prediction of 
his end ; 14. The Phoenix of the Court. 

Britanicus his Pedigree — a fatall Prediction of his 
end. 
I dare affirme him a Jew by descent, and of the 
tribe of Benjamin, lineally descended from the first 
King of the Jewes, even Saul, or at best he ownes 
him and his tribe, in most we readeof them. First, 
of our English tribes, I conceive his fsither's the 
lowest, and the meanest of that tribe, stocke, or gene- 
ration and the worst, how bad soever they be ; melan- 
choly he is, as appeares by his sullen and dogged wit ; 
malicious as Saul to David, as is evident in his writ- 
ings; he wants but Saul's javelin to cast at him ; he as 
little spares the king's friend with his pen, as Saul 
did Jonat-han his sonne in his reproch ; and would 
be as free of his javelin as his pen, were his power 
sutable to his will, as Ziba did to Mephibosheth, 
so does he by the king, he belies him as much 
to the world, as he his master to David, and 
in the day of adversitie is as free of his tongue as 
Shimei was to his soveraigne, and would be as hum- 
ble as he, and as forward to meet the king as he was 
David, should the king returne in peace. Abithaes 
there cannot want to cut off the dog's head, but 
David is more mercifull then Shimei can be wicked : 



244 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

may he first consult with the witch of Endor, but 
not worthy of so noble a death as his own sword, 
die the death of Achitophel for feare of David, 
then may he be hang'd up as the sonnes of Saul were 
against the sunne, or rather as the Amelekites who 
slew Isbosheth, and brought tidings and the tokens 
of the treason to David ; may his hands and his feet 
be as sacrifices cut off, and so pay for the treasons 
of his pen and tongue; may all heads that plot 
treasons, all tongues that speake them, all pens that 
write them, be so punisht. If Sheba paid his head 
for his tongue's fault, what deserves Britannicus to 
pay for his pen and trumpet? Is there never a wise 
woman in London ? we have Abishaes. 

Francis Wortley, was the son Sir Richard Wort- 
ley, of Wortley, in Yorkshire, knight. At the age 
of seventeen he became a commoner of Magdalen 
College, Oxford; in 1610 he was knighted, and on 
the 29th of June in the following year, was created 
a baronet; being then, as Wood says, esteemed an 
ingenious gentlemen. During the civil wars he 
assisted the royal cause, by raising a troop of horse 
in the king's service ; but at their conclusion he was 
taken prisoner, and confined in the tower of London, 
where it seems he composed the volume just noticed. 
In the Catalogue of Compounders his name appears 
as "of Carleton, Yorkshire," and from thence we 



APPENDIX. 245 

learn that he paid 500^. for his remaining property. 
In the Athense Oxonienses may be found a list of 
his works, but I have been unable to trace the date 
of his decease. Mr. Granger says that " Anne, his 
daughter, married the second son of the first Earl of 
Sandwich, who took the name of Wortley,'' and adds 
that the late Countess of Bute was descended from 
him. Biographical History^ ii. 310. 



xxiii. The Times anatomiz\l^ in severaU Characters. 
By T. i^[ord, seruant to Mr. Sam. Man.] 'S 
Difficile est Satyramnonscrihere. Juv. Sat. 1. 
London, Printed for W. L. Anno 1647.'' 
[12mo. in the British Museum.] 

The Contents of the severall Characters. 

1. A good King. 9. Errour. 

2. Rebelion. 10. Truth. 

3. An honest subject. 11. A selfe-seeker. 

4. An hypocritical convert 12. Pamphlets. 

of the times. 13 An envious man. 

5. A souldier of fortune. 14. True valour. 

6. A discontented person. 15. Time. 

7. An ambitious man. 16. A newter. 

8. The vulgar. 17. A turn-coat. 



73 (MS. interlineation in a copy among the King's pamphlets.) 



246 MICKOCOSMOGEAPHY. 

18. A moderate man. 24. A novice-preacher. 

19. A corrupt committee- 25. A scandalous preacher. 

man. 26. A grave divine. 

20. A sectary. 27. A selfe-conceited man. 

21. Warre. 29. Religion. 

22. Peace. 30. Death. 

23. A drunkard. 

" PAMPHLETS 

Are the weekly almanacks, shewing what weather 
is in the state, which, like the doves of Aleppo, 
carry news to every part of the kingdom. They are 
the silent tray tors that aifront majesty, and abuse 
all authority, under the colour of an Imprimatur. 
Ubiquitary flies that have of late blistered the eares 
of all men, that they cannot endure any solid truth. 
The ecchoes, whereby what is done in part of the 
kingdome, is heard all over. They are like the 
mushromes, sprung up in a night, and dead in a 
day ; and such is the greedinesse of men's natures 
(in these Athenian dayes) of new, that they will 
rather feigne then want it.'' 



xxiv. Character of a London Diurnal^ 4to. 1647. 
[This was written by Cleveland, and has been 
printed in the various editions of his poems.] 



APPENDIX. 247 

XXV. Character of an Agitator. Printed in the Yeare 
1647. 4:to. pp. 7. 

This concludes with the following epitome — 
" Hee was begotten of Lilburne, (with Overton's 
helpe) in Newgate, nursed up by Cromwell, at first 
by the army, tutored by Mr. Peters, counselled by 
Mr. Walwin and Musgarve, patronized by Mr. Mar- 
tin, (who sometimes sits in counsell with them, 
though a member) and is like to dye no where but 
at Tyburne, and that speedily, if hee repent not and 
reforme his erronious judgement, and his seditious 
treasonable practises against king, parliament, and 
martiall discipline itselfe. Finis. 



xxvi. In Mr. Brand's Sale Catalogue, No. 1754, we 
have The Surfeit to A. B. C. 8vo. Lond. 
1656, which is there represented to consist 
of Characters. 



xxvii. Characters of a Temporizer and an Anti- 
quary. [In " Naps upon Parnassus," 8vo. 
1658. See the Censura Literaria, vol. vi. p. 
225; vol. vii. p. 341.] 



248 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

xxviii. Satyrical Charactei's^ and liandsom Descrip- 
tions^ in Letters^ 8vo. 1658. [Catalogue of 
Thomas Britton the Small Coal Man. 4to. 
p. 19. No. 102.] 



xxix. A Character of England, as it was lately 
presented in a Letter to a Nohle-man of 
France. With Reflections upon Gallus Cas- 
tratus. The third Edition. London. Printed 
for John Crooke, and are to he sold at the Ship 
in St. Bald's Church- Yard, 1659. 

(12mo. pp. 66, title and preface 20 more.) 

This very severe satire upon the English nation 
was replied to in the following publication, 



XXX. A Character of France, to ivhich is added Cal- 
lus Gastratus, or an Answer to a late slan- 
derous Pamphlet, called the Character of 
England. Si talia nefanda et facinora quis 
non Democritus ? London, Printed for Nath. 
Brooke, at the Angel in Cornliill, 1659. 



APPENDIX. 249 

xxxi. A perfect Description of the People and 
Country of Scotland. London. Printed 
for J. S. 1659. 

(12mo. pp. 21. besides the title.) 



xxxii. A hrief Character of the Low Countries 
under the States, being Three Weeks Obser- 
vation of the Vices and Vertues of the Inhabit- 
ants. Non seria semper. London, Printed 
for H. S. and are to be sold by H. Lowndes, 
at the White Lion in St. Paul's Church Yard, 
neer the little North Door, 1669. 

(12mo. pp. 500. title, &c., 6 more.) 

Written by Owen Feltham, and appended to the 
several folio editions of his Resolves. 



xxxiii. The Character of Italy : Or, The Italian 
Anatomized by an English Chirurgion. Diffi- 
cile est Satyram non scribere. London : 
Printed for Nath. Brooke, at the Angel in 
Cornhil. 1660. 

[12mo. pp. 93, title and preface 12 more.] 
32 



250 MICEOCOSMOGRAPHY. 

xxxiv. The Character of Spain : Or, An Ejntome 
of Their Virtues and Vices. 

Adeo sunt multa, loquacem 

Ut lassare queant Fabium. 

London : Printed for Nath. Brooke, at the Angel in 
Cornhil 1660. 

[12mo. pp. 93, title, &c. 12 more.] 



XXXV. Essayes and Characters^ hy L. G. 8vo. 1661, 
[See Brand's Sale Catalogue, No. 1754.] 



xxxvi. Tlie Assemhly-man. Written in the Year 
1647. London: Printed for Richard Marriot, 
and are to he sold at his shop under St. Dun- 
stan's Church, in Fleet-street, 1662— 3. "^^ 

[4to. pp. 22.] 

Sir John Birkenhead was the author of this cha- 
racter, which was printed again in 1681, and in 1704 
with the following title, '' The Assembly -onan. Writ- 



ii Witli a very curious and rare frontispiece. 



APPENDIX. 251 

ten in the TearlQ^l ] hut proves the true character 
of (^Cerherus) the ohservator^ MDCCiv/' It was also 
reprinted in the Harleicui Miscellcmy^ v. 93. For 
an account of the author, see the Biographia Bri- 
tannica, edit. Kippis, ii. 324. 



xxxvii. Fifty-jive ~5 Enigmatical Characters^ all very 
exactly drawn to the Life^ from several 
Persons, Humours, Dispositions. Pleasant 
and full of Delight. By R. F. Esq.; Lon- 
don : Printed for William Crook, at the 
sign of the Three Bibles on Fleet-bridge. 
1665/' 70 

[8vo. pp. 135, title, index, &c. not numbered, 11 
more.] 

Richard Flecknoe, the author of these characters, 
is more known from having his name affixed to one 
of the severest satires ever written by Dryden, than 
from any excellence of his own as a poet or drama- 
tic writer. Mr. Reed conceives him to have been a 
Jesuit, and Pope terms him an Irish priest. Lang- 



75 I omit to particularize these characters, as many of the titles 
are extremely long — "of a lady of excellent conversation. Of one 
that is the foyle of good conversation." «&c. »fec. 

76 Mr. Eeed possessed a copy, dated in 1658. See his Catalogue., 
No. 209S. 



252 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

baine says, that " his acquaintance with the nobility 
was more than with the muses, and he had a greater 
propensity to rhyming, than a genius to poetry." 
As a proof of the former assertion the Duke of New- 
castle prefixed two copies of verses to his characters, 
in which he calls Flecknoe " his worthy friend, '^ 
and says: 

" Flecknoe, thy characters are so full of wit 
And fancy, as each word is throng'd with it. 
Each line's a volume, and who reads would swear 
Whole libraries were in each character. 
Nor arrows in a quiver stuck, nor yet 
Lights in the starry skies are thicker set. 
Nor quills upon the armed porcupine. 
Than wit and fancy in this work of thine. 

W. Newcastle." 

To confirm the latter, requires only the perusal of 
his verses, which were published in 1653, under 
the title of Miscellania. Besides these, he wrote 
five'^ dramatic pieces, the titles of which may be 
found in the Biogi'aphia Dramatica ; a collection 
of Fpigrams, 8vo. 1670 ; Ten Years Travels in Eu- 
rope. — A short Discourse of the English Stage, 
affixed to Love's Dominion, 8vo. 1654 ; The Idea 



77 Langbaine notices a prologue intended for a play, called The 
Physician against Ms Will^ which he thinks was never published. 
A MS. note in my copy of the Dramatic Poets, says it was printed 
in 1712. 



APPENDIX. 253 

of his Highness Olive?', late Lord Protector, &c. 8vo. 
1659. &c. &C.7S 

" CHARACTER OF A VALIANT MAN." (page 61.) 

•' He is onely a man ; your coward and rash being 
but tame and savage beasts. His courage is still 
the same, and drink cannot make him more valiant, 
nor danger lesse. His valour is enough to leaven 
whole armies, he is an army himself worth an army 
of other men. His sword is not alwayes out like 
children's daggers, but he is alwayes last in begin- 
ning quarrels, though first in ending them. He holds 
honour (though delicate as chrystall) yet not so slight 
and brittle to be broak and crackt with every touch j 
therefore (though most wary of it,) is not querilous 
nor punctilious. He is never troubled with passion, 
as knowing no degree beyond clear courage, and is 
alwayes valiant, but never furious. He is the more 
gentle i' th' chamber, more fierce he's in the field, 
holding boast (the coward's valour,) and cruelty 
(the beast's,) unworthy a valiant man. He is only 



78 The Bodleian library contains " The Affections ofainous Souk, 
unto our Saviour- Christ. Expressed in a mixed treatise of verse and 
prose. By Richard Flecknoe.'' 8vo. 1640. This I can scarcely con- 
sent to give to Mac Flecknoe, as in the address " To the Town 
Reader," the author informs us that^ "ashamed of the many idle 
hours he has spent, and to avoid the expence of more, he has retired 
from the town"— and we are certain that Mac resided there long 
after. 



254 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

coward in this, that he dares not do an unhandsome 
action. In fine, he can onely be overcome by dis- 
courtesie, and has but one deffect — he cannot talk 
much — to recompence which he dos the more.'^ 



xxxviii. Tlie Character of a Coffee.-liouse^ with the 
symptoms of a Town-witt. With Allowance. 
April W^ 1673. London^ Printed for Jona- 
than Edioiu, at the Three Roses in Ludgate- 
street, 1673. 

[Folio, reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany^ with 
an answer to it, vol. vi. 429 — 433.] 



xxxix. Essays of Love and Marriage : Being Let- 

ters written hy two Gentlemen, one dissuading 

from Love, the other an Answer thereunto. 

With some Characters, and other Passages 

of Wit. 

Si quando gravahere cutis, 

Hsec lege, pro moestse medicamine mentis haheto. 

London, Printed for H Brome, at the Gun in St. 
Paid's Church-yard,, 1673. 

[12mo. pp. 103, title, &c. 4 more.] 



APPENDIX. 255 

xl. The Character of a Fanatich. By a Person of 
Quality. London. 1675. 

[4to. pp. 8. Reprinted in tlie Harleian Miscellany , 
vii. 596.] 



xli. (Jliaracter of a Towne Gallant 
of a Towne Miss 
of an honest drunken Curr 
of a pilfering Taylor 
of an Exchange Wench 
of a Sollicitor 
of a Scold 
of an ill Husband 
of a Dutchman 
of a Paicnhroher 
of a Tally Man 

[4to. See Sale Catalogue of George Steevens, Esq 
8vo. London, 1800, page 66, No. 1110.] 



xlii. A Whip for a Jockey : or^ a Character of an 
Horse-courser. 1677. London, Printed for 
R. H 1677. 



[8vo. pp. 29.] 



256 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

xliii. Four for a Penny ^or Poor Rohin's Characte?' 
of an unconscionable Pawnhroher ^ and Ear- 
inarh of an 02^pressing Tally-man : with 
a friendly Description of a Bum-bailey^ 
and his merciless setting cur, or follower. 
With Allowance. London. Printed for 
L. C. 1678. 

4to. reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany., vol. iv. 
[p. 141.] 



xliv. Character of an ugly Woman : or. a Hue and 
Cry after Beauty, in prose, written (by the 
Duke of Buckingham) in 1678. See Lord 
Orford's Royal and Noble Authors, by Park, 
iii. 309. 



xlv. Character of a disbanded Courtier. Ingenium 
Galbse male habitat. 1681. 

[Folio, pp. 2. Reprinted in the Harleian Miscel- 
lany, i. 356.] 



APPENDIX. 257 



xlvi. Character of a certain ugly old P- 



London^ Printed in the Year 1684. 
[In Oldham's Works, 8vo. London, 1684.] 



xlvii. Twelve ingenious Characters: or pleasant 
Descriptions of the Properties of sundry Per- 
sons and Things, viz. 
An importunate dunn ; a serJeant or bailiff ; a 
paun-hroker ; a prison ^ a tavern ; a scold ; a had 
hushand ; a town-fop ; a hawd ; a fair and happy 
milk-maid ; the quack's directory ; a young ena- 
mourist. 

Licensed, June the 2>d, 1681. R. P. London, 
printed for S. Norris, and are to be sold by most 
booksellers, 1686. 

[12mo. pp. 48.] 



xlviii. Character of a Trimmer. By Sir William 
Coventry. 1689. 

[4 to. See Bibliotheca Harleiana^ v. 4278.] 

This was written long before publication, as is 
proved by the following 
33 



258 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 

xlix. Character of a, Tory in 1659, wi answer to that 
of a Trimmer (iiever published) both loritten 
in King Charles's reign. 

[Reprinted in the Woi^ks of George Villiers, second 
Duke of Buckingham. 4to. Lond. 1721,] 



1. Characters addressed to Ladies of Age. 8vo. 
Lond. 1689. 

[Brand's Sale Catalogue, p. 66, No. 1747.] 



The Ceremony -monger, his Character, in six 
Chapters, &c., &c. By E. Jlickeringill, Rec- 
tor of the Rectoi^ of All- Saints, in Colchester. 
London, Printed and are to be sold by George 
Larkin, at the Two Sioans, without Bishops- 
gate. 1689. 

[4to. pp. 66.] 

1 



lii. Character of a Jacobite. 1690. 

[4to. See Bibl. Earl. v. No. 4279.] 



APPENDIX. 259 

The following are without date, but were pro- 
bably printed before 1700. "^9 



liii. Character' of an lll-court-favourite^ translated 
from the French. 

[4to. Reprinted in the Harleian Mhcellany^ ii. 50.] 



liv. Character of an honest and loorthy Parliament- 
Man. 
[Folio, reprinted in the Harleian 3Iiscellany, ii. 336.] 



Iv. Characterism.^ or the Modern Age displayed. 
[Brand's Sale Catalogue^ No. 1757.] 



Ivi. Character of the Presbyterian Pastors and 
People of Scotland. 

[Bibl. Harleiana, v. No. 4280.] 



79 In Butler's Remains, published by Thyer, 2 vols. 8vo. 1759, 
are several Characters by the author of Hudibras, and consequently 
written previously to this date, but as they do not appear to have 
been printed so early, they cannot, with propriety, be included in 
this list. 



260 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Ivii. Character of a complea.t Physician or Natu- 
ralist fi^ 

\_Bihl. Harleiana, No. 4304.] 



80 In the extracts made from the foregoing series of Characters^ 
the original orthography has been most scrupulously attended to, in 
order to assist in shewing the progress and variation of the English 
language. 



INDEX 



Abishaes, 244. 
Abithaes, 243. 
Abraham-man, 189. 
Achilles, 31. 
Achitophel, 244. 
Acquaintance, character of, 

122. 
Aeneas, 125. 
Affected man, character of, 

143. 
Affections of a pious Soule, 

by Richard Flecknoe, 253. 
Alderman, character of, 14. 
Aleppo, 246. 
Alexis of Piedmont, 11. 
Alfred, king, 4. 
AUmayne, 239. 
Airs well that ends ivell, by 

Shakspeare, 239. 
Allot, Robert, xi. 
Almanack in the bones, 32. 
Alresford, Hampshire, 180. 
American Museum, 1. 
Ames, Mr., xvi, 187, 19G. 
Amsterdam, 78. 
Anatomy of Melancholly , by 

Burton, 39, 62, 197. ' 
Andria of Terence, 175. 
Angglear, 188. 
Antem-morte, 40. 
Antiquary, character of, 18. 



Antiquary, The, by Marmion, 

19. 
Apophthegmata, 87. 
Aristophanes, 174. 
Aristotle, 8, 27. 
Arminian, 27. 
Arminius, 97. 
Ashmole's Museum, Oxford, 

168, 241. 
Atkinson, Mr., 181. 
Atkyns, Sir Robert, 35. 
Athenx Oxo7iienses, hy \Yood, 

X, 181, 232, 245. 
Attorney, character of, 79. 
Austin, 96 
Awdeley, John, 197. 



Baal, priests of, 74. 
Babel, tower of, 19, 88. 
Bagster, Richard, 183. 
Baker, character of a, 94. 
Bales, Peter, 5. 
Bardolph, 89. 
Barnes, John, 63. 
Barnes, Juliana, 43. 
Barrington, Daines, 29. 
Barton, Elizabeth, 93. 
Barwick, Dr., 161. Life of, 

161. 
Bawdy-basket, 189. 



262 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Bayle, 77. 

Beaumont and Fletcher, 175. 

Beaumont, Francis, 167, 

172, 173, 174. 
Beati's Duel, by Mrs. Cent- 

livre, 69. 
Bedford, Earl of, 11. 
Bellarmine, Cardinal, 6. 
Belman of London, by 

Uecker, 1P8. Copy, with 

Burton's MS. notes, 197. 
Benar, 195. 
Bene, 193. 
Benjamin, 243, 
Benjamin's mess, 93. 
Bessus, 175. 
Bethlem, 223. 

Bible, printed at Geneva, 8. 
Bihliographia Poetica, by 

Ritson, 208. 
Bihliotheca Harleiana, 257, 

258, 259. 
Biographia Britannica, 251. 
Biographia Dramatica, 252. 
Birkenhead, Sir John, 250. 
Bishopstone, 159, 160. 
Blackfriar's, play at, 236- 
Bliss, Philip, v. 
Blount, Edward, ix, x, xi, 

xvi, 
Blount, Ralph, xvi. 
Blunt man, character of, 102. 
Bobadil, 89. 
Bodleian Library, Oxford, 

62, 168, 169, 196, 201, 

239, 253 
Boke of haivkynge, huntynge, 

and fysshinge, 43. 
Bold forward man, character 

of, 92. 
Bong, 195. 



Books, mode of placing them 

in old libraries, 57. 
Bord, 194. 
Borgia, 67. 
Bouge, 193. 
Boulster, Lecture, 240. 
Bourne, Nicholas, 230. 
Bouse, 193, 194. 
Bousing-ken, 195. 
Bowl-alie}', character of, 65. 
Brachigraphy, 4. 
Brand, Mr., 199, 236, 247, 

250, 258, 259. 
Bread used in England in the 

sixteenth century, 40. 
Breeches, 3. 
Breton, captain, 206. 
Breton, Nicholas, 12, 168, 

207, 208. Life of 207. 
Breton'' s Longing, 208. 
Bridewell, 223. 
Britannicus, his pedigree, 

243. 
British Bibliographer, by 

Brydges, 197, 236. 
British Museum, xi, 245. 
British Topography, by 

Cough, an addition to, 

227. 
Britton, Thomas, 248. 
Brownist, 74. 
Brydges, Sir Samuel Eger- 

ton, 197, 207, 242. 
Bucephalus, 239. 
Buckingham, duke of, 169, 

256, 258. 
Bullen, earl of, 138. 
Burroughs, Sir .John, 167. 

Lines on, 169, 170. 
Burton, Robert, 39, 62, 197. 
Butler, Samuel, 259. 



INDEX. 



263 



Butter, Nathaniel, 230. 
Buttery, 108. 
Byng, 195. 



C. F., 201. 

Cacling cheat, 194. 

Caesar, 18. 

Caesars, the, 105. 

Calais sands, 69. 

Cambridge, 136. 

Camden, 61. 

Canaries, a dance, 239. 

Canary, 32. 

Cant phrases, 188, 189, 193, 

194, 195, 196. 
Capel, Mr., 199. 
Carrier, character of a, 35. 
Carte, 169. 
Casaubon, 96. 
Cassan, 194. 
Cassel, siege of, 25. 
Catalogue of Co7npounders for 

their Estates, 244. 
Cato, 54, 130. 
Caveat for Commen Cursetors, 

186. 
Censura Literaria, 198, 206, 

208, 232, 237, 247. 
Centlivre, Mrs., 70. 
Centoes, 61. 
Century of Inventions, by 

the Marquis of Worcester, 

29. 
Cerberus, 251. 
Chalmers, Mr., 39. 
Cham, 115. 
Chandler, R., xii. 
Character of an agitator, 247. 
of an antiquary, 2"^!. 



Character of an assembly-man, 
250. 

of an untrue bishop, 

240. 

of a ceremony -mon- 
ger, 258. 

of a coffee house, 

254. 

of a disbanded cour- 
tier, 256. 

of an ill-court-fa- 
vourite, 259. 

of an honest drunken 

cur, 255. 

of a Dutchman, 255. 

of England, 248. 

of an exchange- 
wench, 255. 

of a fanatic, 255. 

of France, 248. 

of a town-gallant, 

255. 

of a horse-courser, 

255. 

of an ill husband, 

255. 

of the hypocrite, 4. 

of a Jacobite, 258. 

of Italy, 249. 

of a London diurna I, 

246. 

oftheLow Countries, 

249. 

of an Oxford incen- 
diary, 241. 

,....of a certain ugly old 

p , 257. 

of an honest and 

worthy parliament 
man, 259. 



264 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Character of a paum-broker, 

255, 256. 
of a comi^lete physi- 
cian, or naturalist, 
260. 

of the Presbyterian 

pastors and people 
of England, 259. 

of a projector, 241. 

of a scold, 255. 

of Scotland, 249. 

of a solicitor, 255. 

of Spain, 250. 

of a tally-man, 255, 

256. 

of a pilfering taylor, 

255. 

of a temporizer, 248. 

of a tory, 258. 

of a town miss, 255. 

of a trimmer, 258. 

of an ugly woman, 

256. 
Characters : List of books 

containing characters, 

186. 
Characters, by Butler, 259. 
Characters and Elegies, by 

Wortley, 242. 
Characters upon Essaies, 206. 
Characters addressed to La- 
dies, 258. 
Characters of virtues and 

vices, by Bishop Hall, 222. 
Characterism, or the modern 

age displayed, 259, 
Characters, twelve ingenious ; 

or pleasant descriptions, 

257. 
Charles I, 160, 161, 163, 

258. 



Charles II, 158, 160, 163, 

175. 
Charles, Prince, 159. 
Chates, 195. 

Chaucer, 11, 84, 116, 175. 
Cheap, cross in, 138. 
Chess-play, verses on, by 

Breton, 211. 
Chete, 195. 
Child, character of, 1. 
Christ-church, Oxford, 158, 

161. 
Christmas, 127. 
Chuck, 137. 
Church-papist, character of, 

24. 
Cinthia's Revenge, by Ste- 
phens, 201. 
Citizen, character of a mere 

gull, 135. 
City Match, by Mayne, 72, 

89. 
Clarendon, Lord, 160, 161. 

His character of Earle, 

163. 
Clerke's Tale, by Chaucer, 

116. 
Cleveland, 246. 
Cliff, Lord, 32. 
Clitus-Alexandrinus, 225. 
Clout, 51. 
Clye, 195. 
Cocke, J., 205. 
Cocke Lorell, 197. 
Cocke Lorelles Bote, 197. 
Cofe, 193, 195. 
Colchester, 258. 
College butler, character of, 

39. 
Comments on books, 105. 
Complcat gamester, 41. 



INDEX. 



265 



Complimental man, charac- 
ter of, 125. 

Conceited man, character 
of, 26. 

Conceited pedlar, by Ran- 
dolph, 137. 

Constable, character of, 40. 

Constantinople, 25. 

Constiiutional History, bv 
Hallam, 24, 25. 

Contemplative man, charac- 
ter of, 70. 

Contents, xiii. 

Cook, character of a, 90. 

Cooper, Mrs., 208. 

Corranto-coiner, character 
of, 226. 

Couched, 193. 

Coventry, Sir William, 257. 

Councellor, character of a 
worthy, 208. 

character of an 

unworthy, 209. 

Count erfet cranke, 189. 

Country knight, character 
of, 41. 

Courtier, character of, 199. 

Coward, character of, 146. 

Cowardliness, essay on, in 
verse, 202. 

Coxeter, 201. 

Cranke, 189. 

Cressey, Hugh, his charac- 
ter of Earle, 166. 

Cramprings, 195. 

Crimchan, 227. 

Critic, character of, 105. 

Cromwell, 247. 

Crooke, Andrew, xi. 

Cuflfen, 195. 

Cupid, 200. 

34 



Cure for the itch, by H. P. 

218, 219. 
Cut, 193, 194, 195. 



Dallison, Maximilian, 208. 
Dances, old, 239. 
Danet, Thomas, 201. 
Danvers, Lord, 180. 
Darius, 91. 
Darkemans, 193. 
David, 243, 244. 
Davies of Hereford, 198. 
Dear year, 148. 
Deboshments, 153. 
Decker, 29, 30, 83, 99, 188. 
Dell, 189. 
Demaunder for glymmar, 

189. 
Demetrius, Charles, 62. 
Denny, Lord Edward, 222. 
Description of unthankjul- 

nesse, by Breton, 208. 
Detractor, character of a, 

54. 
Deuseauyel, 195. 
Digby, Sir Kenelm, 13. 
Dinascoso, 192. 
Dining in Pauls, 89. 
Dinners given by the sheriff, 

34. 
Dioclesian, 239. 
Discontented man, character 

of, 16. 
Discourse of the English 

stage, by Flecknoe, 252. 
Divine, character of a grave, 



Dole, 94. 
Dommei-ar, 189. 



266 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Door-posts, 15, 23. 

Douce, Mr., 232. 

Doves of Aleppo, 246. 

Doxe, 189. 

Dragon that pursued the 

woman, 54. 
Dramatic Poets, by Lang- 

baine, ix. 
Drugger, 12. 

Drunkard, character of, 115, 
Drydeu, 251. 
Dudes, 195. 
Dunton, John, 111. 
Duppa, Dr., 159. 
Dutchmen, their love for 

rotten cheese, 18. 



Earle, Bishop, v, viii, x, xii. 
Life of, 157, &c. Charac- 
ters of, 163, 164, 165, 166, 
167. List of his works, 

167. Name of Earle, xiv. 
Earle, Thomas, 157. 
Earthquake in Germany, 62, 
Ecclesiastical Polity, by 

Hooker, 160, 163, 167. 

Translated into Latin, 

160. 
Edward I, 227. 
Effeminate fool, character 

of, 210. 
Ewwv Ba^'XiXT), 160, 163, 

168, 175. Dedication to 
the Latin translation, 175. 

Eleven of the clock, 34. 
Elizabeth, queen, 18, 34, 

87, 138. 
Ellinor, queen, 138. 
Ellis, 207. 
Ellis, Henry, xi. 



Empty wit, character of an, 
113. 

Endor, witch of, 244. 

England, 81, 98. 

England's selected characters, 
205. 

English Gentleman, by 
Brathwait, 230. 

Epigrams, by Flecknoe, 252. 

Epigrams, by H. P., 218. 

Esau, 20. 

Etssay on 3Ian, by Pojae, 2. 

Essayes and Characters, by 
L. G., 250. 

Essays and characters of a 
prison, by Mynshul, 117, 
215. 

Essays of Love and Marriage, 
254. 

Essex, Lord, 239, "lord of 
Essex' measures," a 
dance, 239. 

Every man in his Humour, 
by Ben .Jonson, 89, 120. 

Euphormio, 57. 

Excellent vercis worthey Imi- 
tation, supposed by Bre- 
ton, 208. 

Eyes upon noses, 32. 

Elyot, Sir Thomas, 42. 



F. R., 251. 
F. T., 245. 
Fabricius, 40. 
Falcons, 43. 
Falstatf, 17, 87. 
Farley, William, 35. 
Farmer, Dr., 197. 
Feltham, Owen, 21, 249. 



INDEX. 



267 



Fiddler, character of a poor, 

126. 
Fifty-five enigmatical charac- 
ters, by R. F., 251, 
Figures, by Breton, 168, 

207. 
Figure of foure, by Breton, 

168. 
Fines, Catherine, 227. 
Fines, Mary, 227. 
Fines, Sir William, 227. 
Finical, 135, 
Fishing, treatise on, 43. 
Flagge, 193, 194. 
Flatterer, character of a, 

131. 
Flecknoe, Richard, 251,252, 

253. 
Fleming, 149. 
Fletcher, John, 172. 
Flitchman, 188. 
Florio, 192. 
Ford, T., 245. 
Formal man, character of, 

22. 
Four of the clock, 91. 
Four for a penny ; or Poor 

Eobin\s characters, 256. 
Four prenfises of London, by 

Heywood, 83, 138. 
France, 248. 
Frater, 189. 
Fraternitye of Vacabondes, 

188, 189, 196. 
Fresh-water Mariner, 189. 
Freze, white, 189. 
Frieze jerkins, 188. 
Frost, great, 149. 
Funeral Monuments, by Wee- 

ver, 88. 



G. L., 250. 

Gage, 193. 

Galen, 10, 27. 

Gallant, character of an 
idle, 44, 

Gallobelgicus, 39. 

Gallus Castratus, 231. 

Gallye slops, 188. 

Gavel-kind, 22. 

Gee and ree, 50, 

Geneva Bible, 3. 

Geneva print, 72. 

Gennet, 237. 

Germany, 22, 63. 

Gerry, 195. 

Gigges, 210. 

Gilding of the cross, 138. 

Gildon's Lives of the English 
Dramatic Poets, 201. 

Giles's, St., Church, Oxford, 
4. 

Girding, 17. 

Glossographia Anglicana No- 
va, 119. 

Gloucester cathedral, 35. 

Gloucestershire, History of, 
by Atkyns, 35. 

Goddard, author of the 
jVastif-iohelp, 13. 

God's judgments, 63. 

Gold hat-bands, 57. 

Gold tassels, worn by noble- 
men at the University, 57. 

Good and the bad, by Breton, 
12, 206. 

Governour, by Sir Thomas 
Elyot, 42. 

Gough, Mr., 207, 227. 

Gown of an alderman, 14. 

Granger, Mr., 245. 



268 



MICROCOSMOGRx\PHY. 



Great man, character of a 
meer, 150. 

Greek's collections, 62. 

Grunting cbete, 194. 

Gryffith, William, 186. 

Guarded with gold lace, 42. 

GuiUim, John, 157, 158. 

Gull in plush, 138. 

GuVs Hornehooke, by Deck- 
er, 4, 29, 30, 83, 99. 

Gygger, 194. 



Hall, Bishop, 4, 222. 
Harleian Miscellany, 251, 

254, 255, 256. 
Harman, Thomas, 186. 
Hnrmanes, 195. 
Harrison, William, 22, 34, 

40. 
Hart-hall, Oxford, 180. 
Haslewood, Mr., 237. 
Hawking, 42, 120. 
Hawkins, Sir John, 94, 239. 
Hay, James Lord, 222. 
Hederby, 138. 

Hemingford, Huntingdon- 
shire, 180. 
Henry the Fourth, by Shak- 

speare, 87. 
Henry VI, 13. 
Henry VII, 4. 
Henry VIII, 29. 
Herald, character of an, 97. 
Heraldry, Treatise on, by 

GuiUim, 157, 158. 
Herbert, Mr., 187, 196. 
Heylin, Peter, account of, 

180 — inscription on his 

monument, 180. 
Heyne, 125. 



Heywood, 83, 138. 
Hickeringill, E., 258. 
High-spirited man, charac- 
ter of, 133. 
Hill, Mr., xi. 
Hippocrates, 10, 
History of England, by Carte, 

169. 
History of England, by Ma- 

caulay, 7, 21. 
Histrio-mastix, by Prynne, 

53. 
Hobby, 238. 
Hog-eshed, 193. 
Hogg, 241. 
Hogged poney, 238. 
HoKer, 188. 
Holinshed, Raphael, 5, 13, 

22, 34, 40, 93, 148, 149. 
Holt, in Germany, 63. 
Honest man, character of 

an ordinary, 153. 
Hooker, Richard, 160, 163, 

166, 167. 
Hool, Samuel, 111. 
Horse Subsecivpe, ix. 
Horse-race terms, 120. 
Hortus Mertonensis, a poem 

by Earle, 167. 
Hospitall of Incurable Fooles, 

xvi. 
Hostess, character of a 

handsome, 104. 
Houghton, Sir Gilbert, 207. 
Houghton in the Spring, 180. 
Howell, James, 32. 
Hudibras, 252. 
Huggeringe, 192. 
Hugger-mugger, 192. 
Hungarian, 107. 
Hunting, 120. 



INDEX. 



269 



Husband, a poem, 198. 
Hygh-pad, 195. 
Hypocrite, character of 
slae precise, 71. 



Idea of his highness Oliver, 

by Flecknoe, 252. 
Ignoramus, 205. 
Illustrious wife, by Giles 01- 

disworth, 198. 
Imputation, 122, 136. 
Inquisition, 28. 
Insolent man, character of, 

121. 
Intimations of Immortality, 

by Wordsworth, 3. 
Isbosheth, 244. 
Islip, Oxfordshire, 181. 



Jacob, 20. 

Jail-bird, 85. 

James I, 18, 53, 78, 88. 

James II, 161. 

Jarke, 195. 

Jarke-man, 189. 

.Jealous man, character of, 

155. 
Jennet, 238. 
Jerusalem, 139. 
Jesses, 43. 
Jesuits, 84, 96. 
John Dory, 127. 
John's, St., College, Oxford, 

181. 
Johnson, Richard, 227. 
Jonathan, 243. 
Jonson, Ben, 89 : Lines by, 

201. 
Jordans, 32. 



Juliana Barnes, or Berners, 

43. 
Jump, 132. 



Keckerman, Bartholomew, 
40. 

Keep, 100. 

Ken or Kene, 193, 194, 195. 

Kennett, White, 165 : his 
character of Earle, 166. 

Kent, 22. 

Kent, maid of, 90, 

King's bench prison, 216. 

Kippis, Dr., 251. 

Knight, character of a coun- 
try, 41. 

Kynchin-co, 189. 

Kynchin-morte, 189 



Lage, 193. 
Lagge, 195. 
Lambarde, 22. 
Lambeth-palace, 94. 
Langbaine, ix, 201, 251, 

252. 
Laquei ridiculosi, by H. P., 

218. 
Lascivious man, character 

of, 139. 
Laud, Bishop, 180. 
Laurence, St., 91. 
Leg to the residencer, 99. 
Legs in hands, 32. 
Legerdemain, 154. 
Legh, Anne, 207. 
Legh, Sir Edward, 207. 
Leicester, Earl of, 207. 
Leigh, see Legh. 
Lent, 53. 



270 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Letters, by HowelL 32. 

Life and Errors of John Dun- 
ton, by himself, 111. 

Life of Ruddiman, by Chal- 
mers, 39. 

Lilburne, 247. 

Lilly, ix. 

Lipken, 193. 

Lipped, 193. 

Lipsius, 27. 

London, 36, 148. 

London-bridge, 149. 

London and country carbona- 
doed, by Lupton, 236. 

London Spy, by Ward, 137. 

Long-lane, 230. 

Long pavian, a dance, 239. 

Lovers Dominion, by Eleck- 
noe, 252. 

Low Countries, 21, 207,249 : 
Brief character of, by Fell- 
tham, 21. 

Lowre, 193, 195. 

Lucian, 117. 

Ludgate, 223. 

Lupton, Donald, 236. 

Lybbege, 193. 

Lycosthenes, 87. 

Lyghtmans, 193. 



M. G., 215. 
M. R., 223. 
3Iacbeth, by Shak spear e, 

137. 
Mac-Flecknoe, 253. 
Machiavel, 28. 
Magdalen College, Oxford, 

180, 244. 
3Iaid, a Poem of. bySalston- 

stall, 232. 



Blaid's Tragedy, by Beaumont 
and Fletcher, 175. 

Mainwaring, Matthew, 216 : 
family of, ib. 

Make, 193. 

Malaga wine, 32, 

Malone, Mr., 73. 

Man, Samuel, 245. 

Manchet, 40. 

Mars, 240. 

Martial, 114. 

Martin, 247. 

Mary's, St., Church, Oxford, 
4, 92. 

Mastif Whelp, 13. 

3Ia stive, or young lohelpe of 
the old dogge, 219. 

Maund, 194. 

Maurice of Nassau, 25. 

Mayne, 89, 72. 

Meddling-man, character of, 
128. 

Medicis, Francis de, 77. 

Melpomene, 62. 

Memoirs of the Peers of Eng- 
land, by Brydges, 242. 

Menander, 173. 

Menippus, 117. 

Mephibosheth, 243. 

Meres, 207. 

Merry Devil of Edmonton, a 
comedy, 71. 

Merton College, Oxford, 
158, 162, 163, 167. 

Microcosmography, 167 : Edi- 
tions of, xi. 

Micrologia, by R. M., 223. 

Minshall-hall, 215. 

Minshew, 29, 80, 153. 

Miraculous Newcs from the 
Cittie of Holt, 63. 



INDEX. 



271 



Miscellania, by Flecknoe, 

252. 
Modest man, character of, 

111. 
Monson, Sir Thomas, 42. 
Monster out of Germany, 

62. 
Monihly Mirror, 206. 
Monument of Earle, 162. 
Moorfields, 227. 
Mooted, 80. 
More the Merrier, 219. 
Morley, Dr., 161. 
Mort, 194. 
3Iother''s Blessing, by Breton, 

208. 
3Ioiise-trap, by H.P., 219. 
jNIunster, 63. 
Murdered bodies supposed 

to bleed at the approach 

of the murderer, 13. 
Musgarve, 247? 
Musick, history of, by Sir 

.John Hawkins, 239. 
Myll, 195. 
Mynshul, 71, 117. 
Mynshul, Geffray, 215, 216. 



Nabeker, 193. 

Nabes, 194. 

Namptwich, Cheshire, 216. 

Naps upon Parnassus, 247. 

Nares, Mr., 11. 

Nase, 194. 

Navy of England, 62. 

Nero, 202. 

Netherlands, 227. 

New Anatomie, or character 
of a Christian or round- 
head, 241. 



Newcastle, Duke of, 252 : 

Lines by, ib. 
Neio Custome, 188. 
Newes of this present week, 

230. 
Newgate, 223, 247. 
Newman, Sir Thomas, 93. 
Nciv ivay to pay old debls, by 

Massinger, 90. 
Nine Muses, a dance, 239. 
Nine Worthies, 138. 
Nireus, 117. 
Noah's flood, 51. 
Nonconformists, 71. 
North, Lord, 242. 
Northern nations, 13. 
Norton, Northamptonshire, 

207. 
Nose, 193. 
Numbers, xxv, 6, 74. 
Nyp, 195. 



Oldham, Mr., 257. 
Oldisworth, Giles, 198. 
Old man, character of a 

good, 129. 
One and thirty, 48. 
Orford, Lord, 242, 256. 
Osborne, Francis, 88. 
Overbury, Sir Thomas, 198, 

205, 242. 
Overton, 247. 
Oxford, 4, 81, 158, 170, 180, 

208. 



P. H., 218. 
Pad, 195. 
Painted cloth, 63. 



272 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Pallyarde, 189. 
Pamphlets, character of, 

246. 
Paper, a poem, 1. 
Paracelsus, 27. 
Park, Mr., xii, 208, 232, 

256. 
Park, Mr. John James, 233. 
Parrot, Henry, 218. 
Parson, character of a poor, 

from Chaucer, 10. 
Partial man, character of, 

81. 
Passion of a discontented 

minde, supposed by Bre- 
ton, 208. 
Passions of the Spirit, sup- 
posed by Breton, 208. 
Patrico, 189. 
Pavian, 239. 
Paul V, pope, 77. 
Paul's, St., Church, 87, 200, 

227. 231, 235. 
Paul's-cross, 90 : penance 

at, 90. 
Paul's-man, 88. 
Paul's-walk, character of, 

87. 
Paul's-walk, viii : time of 

walking there, 88. 
Paynell, Thomas, 11. 
Pecke,194. 
Pegasus, 237. 
Pembroke, Henry, Earl of, 

170. 
Pembroke, Philip, Earl of, 

158, 159. 
Pembroke, William, Earl of, 

167 : lines on, 170. 
Percy, Bishop, 207. 
Peters, 247. 



Peter's, St., Church, Oxford, 

4. 
Pharoah, 20. 
Philaster, by Beaumont and 

Fletcher, 175. 
Philip II, of Spain, 29. 
Phoenix Nest, by B. S., 211. 
Physician against his ivill, by 

Flecknoe, 252. 
Physician, character of a 

dull, 10. 
Pick-thank, 142. 
Picture Loquentes, by Sal- 

tonstall, 232. 
Pierce, character of Earle, 

167. 
Pierce Penilesse, 132. 
Pineda, 119. 
Plausible man, character of, 

63. 
Plautus, 105 174. 
Player, characters of, 52, 

223. 
Pleasant walkes ofMoorefields, 

Plodding student, character 

of, 86. 
Plutarch, 31. 
Pluto, 117. 
Points, 33. 
Poland, 227. 

Ponsonby, William, xvi. 
Poor man, character of, 151. 
Poor Tom, 189. 
Pope, A., 251. 
Popplar of Yarum, 194. 
Popular Antiquities, by 

Brand, 53, 74, 94, 127. 
Poste, by Breton, 208. 
Post and pair, 41. 
Pot-poet, character of, 61. 



INDEX. 



273 



Practice of Piety, 73. 
Pratt, Mr., 222. 
Prauncer, 19-i. 
Prayer for the college, 6. 
Prayer at the end of a play, 

6. 
Prayer used before the uni- 
versity, 5. 
Preacher, character of a 

young raw, 4. 
Preface to the American 

edition, v. 
Pretender to learning, cha- 
racter of, 95. 
Prigger, see Prygger. 
Primero, 29, 30. 
Primivist, 29. 
Print, set in, 210. 
Prison, character of a, 117. 
Prisoner, character of a, 217. 
Privy councellor, character 

of a worthy, 208. 
Profane man, character of, 

145. 
Progresses of QueenElizaheth, 

207. 
Prologue, 83. 
Prolusions, by Capel, 199. 
Proper, 14, 105. 
Prygger of prauncers, cha- 
racter of a, 190. 
Prynne, 53. 
Puritan, 74, 102, 127. 
Puritan, picture of a, 197. 
Puttenham, 207. 



Quanto Dyspayne, a dance, 

239. 
Quarromes, 193. 

35 



Querpo, 119. 

Quintilian, 27. 

Quyer, or qnyaer, 194, 195. 



RadcliflFe, Sir Alexander, 

225. 
Raie, 214. 
Ramus, 27. 
Randolph, Dr., 137. 
Rash man. character of,. 141. 
Rat, black-coat, terms of 
contempt towards the 
clergy, 146. 
Rawlinson, Dr., 239. 
Re, isle of, 169 : expedition 

to, ib. 
Rebellion, History of, by 

Clarendon, 160. 
Reed, Isaac, 4, 39, 42, 251. 
Reformado precisely charac- 
tered, 241. 
Regiment of Health, 11. 
Regimen Sanitatis Salerni, 11. 
Remains, Butler's, 259. 
Remains, Camden's, 61. 
Reserved man, character of,. 

28. 
Resolves, by Feltham, 249. 
Retchlessly, 116. 
Richard III, 67. 
Rich man, character of a 

sordid, 148. 
Ritson, Mr., 208. 
Robert of Normandy, 138. 
Roge, 188. 
Roger, 193. 
Rogers, G., 201. 
Rogue, see Roge. 
Rome, 9, 24, 76. 



274 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



Rome-bouse, 194. 

Round bi'eeches, 110. 

Royal and noble Authors, by 
Lord Orford, 242. 

Ruddiman, Life of, by Chal- 
mers, 39. 

Ruff of Geneva, print, 71. 

Ruffs, 210. 

Ruffian, 195. 

Huffier, 188, 196. 

Ruffmanes, 195. 

Ruffe-pecke, 194. 

Russell, Earl of Bedford, 11. 

Rutland, Lady, 172. 



S. R., 211. 

Sack, 32, 104. 

Salerne, 11. 

Salisbury, 158. 

Salomon, 193. 

Saltonstall, Wye, 232. 

Sandwich, Earl of, 245. 

Satyrical characters^ 248. 

Satyrical Essayes, by Ste- 
phens, 200, 205. 

Saul, 243. 

Saxons, 22. 

Say, E., vii. 

Saye, 193. 

Scaliger, 96. 

Sceptick in religion, charac- 
ter of, 75. 

Scholar, character of a, 47. 

Scold, character of a, 219. 

Scotus, 74. 

Sejanus, 82. 

Select second htisband for Sir 
Thomas Overburie's wife, 
by Davies of Hereford, 
199. 



Seneca, 96. 

Sergeant, or catchpole, cha- 
racter of, 106. 
Serving-man, character of, 

119. 
Sforza, 67. 
Shakspeare, xvi, 1, 13, 15, 

29, 51, 63, 87, 94, 137, 

192, 239. 
Shark, character of a, 33. 
Shark to, 154. 
Sharking, 152. 
Sheba, 244. 
Sheriff's hospitality and 

table, 34. 
Sherry wine, 32. 
Shimei, 243. 
Ship, 195. 
Shop-keeper, character of, 

100. 
Short-hand, 4, 5. 
Shrewsbury, Elizabeth, 

Countess of, 187. 
Shrove Tuesday, 53. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, MO, 173. 
Silk strings to books, 57. 
Singing-men in cathedral 

churches, character of, 99. 
Skower, 195. 
Skypper, 193. 
Socinus, Faustus, 77. 
Solemne Passion of the Soule^s 

Love, by Breton, 208. 
Soliman and Perseda, 132. 
Sordid rich man, character 

of, 148. 
Spaniards, 84. 
Sparks's Franklin, 1. 
Specimens of Early English 

Poets, by Ellis, 207. 
Spelman, Sir Henry, 22. 



INDEX. 



275 



Spinola, 25. 

Sports and Pastimes, by 

Strutt, 29, 42, 48, 74. 
Springes for Woodcocks, hy 

H. P., 218. 
Squeazy, 103. 
Stanley, Richard, 35. 
Stayed-man, character of a, 

108. 
Steevens, George, 13, 51, 

94, 154, 218, 255. 
Stephen, Master, 120. 
Stephens, John, 200, 205. 
Stews, 68. 
Stowe, 195. 
Stow's Survey of London, 

138. 
Strange Metamorphosis of 

3Ian, 237. 
Strike, 195. 
Strummel, 193. 
Strutt, Mr., 29, 42, 48, 74. 
Strype, Mr., 138. 
Sturbridge-fair, 137. 
Suetonius, 12. 
Sufferings of the Clergy, by 

Walker, 160. 
Surfeit to A. B. C, 247. 
Surgeon, character of a, 68. 
Suspicious or jealous man, 

character of, 155. 
Swadder, 189. 
Swedes, 13. 

Swedish Intelligencer, 230. 
Switzer, 227. 



Table-book, 4. 
Tables, 48. 



Tacitus, 96. 

Talbot, Sir John, 170. 

Tamworth, Staffordshire, 
207. 

Tanner, Bishop, 208. 

Tantalus, 217. 

Tavern, character of a, 30. 

Telephus, 31, 39. 

Tempest, by Shakspeare, 154. 

Tennis, 57. 

Te7i Years' Travel, by Fleck- 
noe, 252. 

Term, character of the, 235. 

Thersites, 117. 

Thyer, Mr., 259. 

Tiberius, 82. 

Times anatomized, 245. 

Tinckar, or tinker, 189. 

Tires, 25. 

Tiring-house, 52. 

Titus, 12. 

Tobacco, 31. 

Tobacco-seller, character of, 
60 : called a smoak -seller, 
ib. 

Togman, 193. 

Tower, 194. 

Town-precisian, 7. 

Traditional 3Iemoires, by Os- 
borne, 88. 

Trumpeter, character of a, 
82. 

Tryne, 193. 

Tryning, 195. 

Tuft-hunter, 57. 

Tully (see Cicero), 19, 27. 

Turk, 107. 

Turner, Thomas, 201. 

Tyburn, 21, 62, 247. 

Tyntermell, a dance, 239. 



276 



MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 



University College, Oxford, 

162. 
University dun, character of 

a, 107. 
University, character of a 

young gentleman of the, 

56. 
University statutes, 10. 
Upright man, 188, 193. 
Urinal, 10. 
Urine, custom of examining 

it by physicians, 12 : tax 

on, ib. 



Valiant man, character of, 
253. 

Varro, 105. 

Vault at Gloucester, 35. 

Velvet of a gown, 56. 

Venner, 32. 

Vespatian, 12. 

Villiers, George, Duke of 
Buckingham, 258. 

Virgil, 125. 

Virginals, 73. 

Vorstius, Conrade, 77. 

Vulcan, 240. 

Vulgar-spirited man, cha- 
racter of, 83. 

Vyle, 195. 



Wales, 98. 

Walffhart, Conrad, 87. 
Walker, Dr., 160. 
Walker, Sir Edward, 157. 
W^alton, Isaac, x : his cha- 
racter of Earle, 166. 



Walwin, 247. 
Wapping, 230. 
Ward, C, xii. 
Ward, Edward, 137. 
Warde, William, 11. 
Warnborough, South, 180. 
Warton, Thomas, 187, 218. 
Washbourne, R., his Divine 

Poems, 1. 
Waste, 195. 
Watch, 193, 194. 
Weak man, character of, 59. 
Weever, 88. 
Westminster, 117, 138, 150, 

157, 180, 236. 
Westminster, the fellow of, 

150. 
Whimzies, or a new cast of 

characters, 225. 
Whip for a jockey, 255. 
Whipjacke, 189. 
Whitson-ale, 127. 
Whitsuntide, 127. 
Whydds, 195. 
Widow, a comedy, 34. 
Wife, character of a good, 

221. 
Wife, now the Widdoio, of Sir 

Thomas Overbury, 198, 

205: editions of, 198. 
William I, x, 138, 158, 161, 

162. 
Wood, Anthony a, 168, 181, 

198, 244. 
Worcester, Marquis of, 29. 
World displayed^ xii. 
World's wise man, character 

of, 66. 
Wortley, Anne, 245. 
Wortley, Sir Francis, 242, 

244. 



INDEX. 



277 



Wortley, Sir Richard, 244. 
Writing school-master, by 

Bales, 5. 
Wyn, 193. 



Yarum, 194. 

York, 36, 157. 
York, James, Duke of, after- 
wards James II, 161, 242. 



Young gentleman of the uni- 
versity, character of, 56. 

Young man, character of, 
87. 

Younger brother, character 
of, 20. 



Ziba, 243. 



/ 






i. 



4- 



Sd> 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 



